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OtE  LUCKOIE.  Page  15. 


T H E 

STORY  TELLER, 

ti 

AND  OTHER  TALES. 


BY  IIANS  CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN. 


ILLUSTRATED. 


NEW  YORK: 

JOHN  B.  ALDEN,  PUBLISHER. 

18Sr>. 


Dedication  - - 7 

Preface  ...  ...  8 

Ole  Luckoie— The  Stort  T^ler  ....  15 

The  Buckwheat  ....  ...  40 

The  Wild  Swans  ....  ...  45 

The  Amoel  ..........  81 

The  Fellow-Traveler  .....  <•  8S 

The  Elfin  Mound  ........  J30 

The  Flying  Trunk  ........  145 

The  Bundle  of  Matches  • - IM 


St  tfce  Youuq  Kratters  of  tfjrac  Sale*. 

MY  DEAR  LITTLE  FRIENDS, 

The  task  of  translating  this  volume 
into  English  was  to  me  as  a labor  of  love; 
for  when  I read  these  charming  stories  for 
the  first  time  the  thought  immediately  oc- 
curred to  me,  “ How  delightful  a book 
would  this  be  for  English  children  to  have! 
How  many  persons  would  be  enchanted 
with  the  book  if  they  could  but  read  it!” 
And  so,  wishing  that  others — many  others^ 
as  I hope — might  share  my  pleasure  with 
me,  wishing  that  the  name  of  Andersen 

71797 


$rtfort 


might  become  as  familiar  and  be  as  joy 
fully  greeted  in  England  as  it  is  every 
where  throughout  Denmark,  I thought  the 
best  thing  I could  do  would  be  to  translate 
what  he  has  here  written;  and  then  I 
doubted  not  of  finding  some  bookseller 
who  would  take  my  book  and  publish  it. 
Well,  I set  about  the  work;  and  at  every 
pretty  passage  I thought  to  myself,  how 
some  bright,  playful  eyes  would  sparkle 
still  more  brightly,  and  some  sweet  rosy 
mouth  send  forth  a happy  laugh,  when  the 
words  I was  then  writing  would  be  read : 
and  so  I translated  story  after  story,  and 
was  as  impatient  to  get  on  as  though  I had 
not  read  the  book  before,  and  wanted  to 
know  myself  what  was  coming.  Then  1 
took  them  with  me  to  England,  and  read 
them  to  different  persons, — the  young,  and 
those  who  had  been  young, — and  all  were 
equally  delighted  with  the  pretty  dcscrip- 


I^rrfarp. 

cions,  the  beautiful  thoughts,  the  quaint 
drollery,  and  the  kindly  feeling  to  be  found 
throughout.  For  these  stories  though,  it  is 
true,  not  all  strictly  speaking  fairy-tales, 
yet  seem  to  me  to  come  from  Fairy-land ; 
for  they  have  the  strange  witchery  about 
them  that  when  a child  reads  he  sees  just 
such  pictures  as  delight  his  young  fancy; 
and  when  a grown-up  person  takes  them 
in  his  hand  he  is  equally  delighted,  though 
he  secs  them  quite  dilfercntly  to  the  child, 
for  to  him  there  arc  hidden  meanings  and 
deep  wisdom  in  what  appears  to  some  a 
mere  childish  tale.  It  may  seem  very 
magical  for  a thing  to  appear  quite  dif- 
ferent to  two  persons  at  the  same  time,  and 
yet  remain  unchanged;  but  so  it  is.  As  a 
proof  of  this,  the  lady  to  whom  I have 
taken  the  liberty  of  dedicating  my  little 
book  wrote  to  me  some  time  ago : “ I look 
forward  with  great  interest  to  the  publica- 

71797 


ftøføtt. 

tion  of  that  charming  book,  which  1 shal 
enjoy  quite  as  much  as  if  I were  one  ol 
your  legitimate  readers  of  eight  years  old, 
instead  of  fifty-eight  next  Tuesday:”  so 
you  see  that  not  only  the  school-boy  but 
one  whose  genius  has  delighted  thousands 
can  read  them  with  enjoyment.  However. 

I suppose  this  is  because  the  good  and  the 
gentle-natured,  be  their  age  what  it  may, 
are  all  children  in  heart ; taking  delight  in 
the  same  simple  things,  and  moved  like 
most  of  yourselves  by  the  expression  of 
natural  feeling.  At  Copenhagen,  too,  these 
tales  are  read  in  the  theatre  to  the  audi-  ( 
ence  between  the  acts ; so  great  and  so 
general  is  the  interest  they  excite. 

How  Andersen  could  imagine  such  charm- 
ing things  I cannot  tell,  nor  do  1 know  il 
the  elves  and  pixies  of  Denmark  gave  him 
a hint  or  hot ; but  I should  think  the  beau- 
tiful thoughts  and  words  so  full  of  pathos 
xii 


■prffatf. 

were  brought  him  rather  by  some  good 
angel,  a messenger  from  heaven. 

A friend  of  mine,  Count  Pocci,  of  Mu- 
nich, (you  all  know  where  Munich  is?), 
told  me  if  I could  find  a publisher,  he 
would  make  the  drawings  for  the  book.  I 
was  particularly  glad  of  this,  because  he 
has  already  illustrated  a great  many  such 
works  : tales  of  his  own,  about  little  or- 
phan children  being  left  all  alone  in  the 
world,  without  any  being  but  God  to  take 
care  of  them ; and  pretty  verses  of  four  or 
five  lines  for  every  day  in  the  month;  be- 
sides the  books  of  other  authors:  and  they 
were  all  done  in  the  feeling  and  spirit  I 
iked. 

Here,  in  Pavaria,  I can  assure  you, 

“ All  children  know, 

They  know  and  love  him  well ; 

And  clap  their  hands  with  joy  to  hear 
The  tales  that  he  can  tell. 

xiii 


**  And  in  the  man  he  draws  for  them, 

And  in  his  tales,  is  shown 
Full  well  he  knows  thai  childhood  has 
A world  that’s  all  its  own.” 

But  it  is  really  time  to  end.  I intended 
to  say  a few  words  only,  and  I have  stayed 
to  talk  with  you  for  more  than  half  an 
hour.  Farewell,  my  pretty  ones;  and  like 
the  children  in  the  vignette,  plucking  fruits 
and  flowers  from  the  overhanging  boughs, 
may  you  derive  gladness  and  much  amuse- 
ment from  these  “ Tales  from  Denmark.” 

Farewell  for  a time : I hope  some  day  to 
meet  you  all  again. 

Charles  Boner. 


sitting  never  so 
nicely  and  pret- 
tily behaved  at  table,  or  on  their  footstools, 


ID  you  ever  sec 
any  body  who 
knows  so  many 
stories  as  good 
old  Ole  Luckoie 
— and  then,  too, 
such  stories ! — 
Yes,  of  an  eve- 
ning, although 
"*  the  children  be 


dMr  jDnrkntp. 


np  stairs  Ole  Luckoie  comes  quite  softly. 
He  has,  in  reality,  list  shoes  on ; he  opens 
the  door  very  gently,  and  then  what  should 
he  do  but  strew  a certain  powder  on  the 
children’s  eyelids.  It  is  so  fine,  so  very 
fine ; but  still  it  is  always  enough  to  make 
it  impossible  for  them  to  keep  their  eyes 
open  any  longer ; and  that  is  the  reason 
they  do  not  see  him : then  he  glides  behind 
them,  and  breathes  gently  on  their  neck ; 
and  then  their  heads  feel  so  heavy ! But  it 
does  not  hurt  them,  for  good  old  Ole  Luckoie 
loves  the  children,  and  wishes  them  well ; 
he  only  wants  them  to  be  quiet,  and  they 
are  most  so  when  they  are  in  bed.  He 
wants  them  to  be  still,  that  he  may  be  able 
to  tell  them  his  stories.* 

• Ole  Luckoie,  that  is,  “ old  kind-hearted  Ole,”  is 
he  whose  business  it  is  in  every  family  to  close  the 
children’s  eyes  when  they  go  to  bed — in  short,  to  sing 
them  their  lullaby.  In  Germany  the  same  nursery- 
genius  is  to  be  found  : he  is  called  “ The  Sandman,” 
who,  when  it  is  time  for  the  little  ones  to  go  to  bed, 
strews  sand  in  their  eyes,  so  that  they  can  no  longe« 
keep  them  open.  It  is  an  every-day  expression,  when 
16 


(DU  rnrknit. 


As  soon  as  the  children  are  asleep,  good 
old  Ole  seats  himself  at  the  foot  of  their  bed 
He  is  well  dressed;  his  coat  is  of  silken 
stuff ; but  to  say  what  color  it  is  would  be 
an  impossibility,  for  it  is  so  glossy,  and  is 
green,  and  red,  and  blue,  according  as  he 
turns.  Under  each  arm  he  carries  an  um- 
brella; one  with  pictures,  which  he  holds 
over  the  good  children,  and  then  they  dream 
the  whole  night  the  prettiest  stories;  and 
one  on  which  there  is  nothing,  and  this  one 
he  holds  over  naughty  children,  who  then 
sleep  on  dully  the  whole  night,  and  when 
they  awake  in  the  morning  have  dreamed 
nothing  at  all. 

Let  us  hear  now  how  Ole  came  every 
night  for  a whole  week  to  a little  boy  called 
Hialmar,  and  what  he  related  to  him. 
That  makes  seven  stories;  for  a week,  yoii 
know,  has  seven  days. 

#f  an  evening  a person  looks  sleepy,  and  winks  and 
rube  his  eyes,  to  say,  “ Ha,  ha!  1 see  the  Sandman  is 
some !” — Not*  or  tur  Transistor. 


1 


IT 


dMt  Zukrit, 


MONDAY. 

“ Now,  then,  listen  to  me  !”  said  the  kind 
old  man,  when  he  had  got  Hialmar  to  bed. 
“ Now  I’ll  show  you  a pretty  sight !”  and 
suddenly  all  the  flowers  in  the  flower-pots 
were  changed  into  great  trees,  that  spread 
their  long  branches  up  to  the  very  ceiling, 
and  along  the  walls,  so  that  the  whole  room 
looked  like  the  piettiest  bower;  and  all  the 
boughs  were  full  of  flowers,  and  every  flow- 
er was  more  beautiful  than  a rose,  and  smelt 
delightfully.  If  one  chose  to  eat  it,  it  tasted 
sweeter  than  sugar-plums.  The  fruits  shone 
like  gold ; and  plum-cakes  were  then  almost 
bursting  with  raisins:  there  was  nothing 
could  be  compared  to  it ! But  at  the  same 
moment  a terrible  lamentation  was  heard  in 
the  table-drawer,  where  Hialmar’s  school- 
books were  lying. 

“What’s  that?”  said  Ole,  going  to  tho 
drawer  and  pulling  it  out.  There  lay  the 
slate,  on  which  the  figures  were  pushing  and 
knocking  each  other ; for  a wrong  number 
had  got  into  the  sum,  so  that  the  whole  was 
18 


(DU  Iurknif. 


on  the  point  of  breaking  down : the  penci. 
jumped  and  hopped  about,  chained  as  he  was 
to  the  slate  by  a piece  of  string,  just  like  a 
little  dog : he  wanted  to  help  the  sum,  but 
was  not  able.  And  a little  further  lay  llial- 
mar’s  copy-book  : here,  too,  was  a moaning 
and  lamentation  within.  On  every  leaf, 
from  top  to  bottom,  were  capital  letters,  each 
with  a small  one  beside  it,  and  so  all  the 
way  down.  That  was  the  copy ; and  by 
these  some  other  letters  were  standing,  that 
fancied  they  looked  like  them,  llialmar 
had  written  these;  but  there  they  lay,  pret- 
ty much  as  if  they  had  tumbled  over  the 
pencil-line  on  which  they  were  meant  to 
• tand. 

“Look!  you  must  stand  so!”  said  the 
copy ; “ look !— so,  sideways,  with  a bold 
front.” 

“ Oh  ! we  should  be  glad  enough  to  do 
so,”  said  Hialmar’s  letters,  “but  we  can’t; 
we  arc  such  poor  wretched  creatures  !” 

“ Then  you  must  have  some  pepper,”  said 

Ole. 


(øle  tnåm. 


upright  that  it  was  a pleasure  lu  look  at 
them. 

“Well,  I can’t  tell  you  any  niora  stories 
now,”  said  the  kind  old  man ; “ I must  go 
and  drill  the  letters : one,  two ! one,  two ! 
one,  two!”  And  then  they  stood  as  straight 
and  as  well  as  only  a copy  can  stand ; but 
when  Ole  went  away,  and  Hialmar  looked 
at  them  next  morning,  there  they  were  all 
just  as  wretched-looking  as  befoie. 

TUESDAY. 

As  soon  as  Hialmar  was  in  bed,  Ole 
touched  all  the  furniture  in  the  room  with 
his  magic  wand,  and  it  immediately  began 
to  speak ; and  each  thing  spoke  of  itself. 

Over  the  chest  of  drawers  there  hung  a 
large  picture  in  a gilded  frame.  It  was  a 
landscape ; and  in  it  were  to  be  seen  high 
old  trees,  flowers  in  the  grass,  and  a broad 
piece  of  water,  with  a river  that  flowed 
round  the  wood,  past  many  castl(»,  away 
into  the  mighty  sea. 

The  kind  old  man  touched  thu  picture 
20 


(JMb  Xnrkflit. 


with  his  wand;  and  the  birds  began  to  sing, 
the  boughs  of  the  trees  moved,  and  the 
clouds  floated  by,  so  that  one  could  see  their 
shadows  moving  over  the  landscape.  Ole 
now  lifted  Hialmar  up  to  the  frame,  and 
Hialmar  put  his  feet  in  the  picture,  right  in 
among  the  high  grass,  and  there  he  stood. 
He  ran  to  the  water  and  seated  himself  in  a 
little  boat;  it  was  painted  red  and  white, 
the  sails  shone  like  silver,  and  six  swans, 
with  golden  chains  around  their  necks,  and 
a brilliant  blue  star  on  their  heads,  drew  the 
boat  past  a green  wood,  where  the  trees  re- 
lated stories  of  robbers  and  witches,  and  the 
flowers  told  about  the  pretty  little  elves,  and 
about  what  the  butterflies  had  said  to  them. 

The  most  beautiful  fishes,  with  scales  like 
gold  and  silver,  swam  after  the  boat ; some- 
times they  gave  a jump,  so  that  they  made 
a splashing  in  the  water ; and  birds,  red  and 
blue,  large  and  small,  came  flying  behind  in 
two  long  rows;  the  gnats  danced,  and  tha 
ehafers  hummed ; they  all  would  accom- 
pany Hialmar,  and  each  one  had  a story  M 
tell. 


si 


dDIr  TmMt. 


That  was  an  excursion  ! Sometimes  the 
(roods  were  thick  and  gloomy ; now  they 
were  like  the  most  pleasing  gardens,  full  of 
flowers  and  sunshine,  and  there  were  two 
large  castles  of  marble  and  crystal.  On  the 
balconies  Princesses  were  standing,  all  of 
whom  were  quite  little  girls,  acquaintances 
of  Hialmar,  with  whom  he  had  often  played. 
They  stretched  out  their  hands,  each  one 
holding  the  nicest  little  sucking-pig  imagi- 
nable, made  of  sugar ; and  Hialmar  took 
hold  of  one  end  as  he  sailed  by,  and  a Prin- 
cess held  the  other ; so  that  each  got  a piece 
— she  the  smaller,  and  he  the  larger  one. 
Before  each  castle  little  Princes  were  stand- 
ing sentry  ; they  shouldered  arms  with  their 
golden  swords,  and  sent  down  showers  of 
raisins  and  games  of  soldiers.  They  were 
the  right  sort  of  Princes ! Hialmar  now 
sailed  through  a wood,  now  through  large 
nails,  or  the  middle  of  a town ; he  passed, 
too,  through  the  town  where  his  nurse  lived, 
she  who  had  carried  him  about  when  he  was 
quite  a little  boy,  and  had  loved  him  so 
dearly.  She  nodded  and  beckoned  to  him 
22 


(Dip  Xnrknit. 


*nd  sarg  <VY',  pretty  verse  which  she  had 
composed  heitelf  and  had  sent  to  Hial- 
mar  • 

•'  \ think  ot  thee,  jj  darling,  I think  of  thee,  my  joy, 

4.t  morning  anrt  at  tvening,  my  little  prattling  boy  ; 

For  I it  was  who  reasureo  the  first  words  which 
thy  tongue 

fn  infancy  did  uttei  nd  on  thy  accents  hung. 

‘Twas  I who  kissed  .."ly  forehead,  ’twas  1 who  kia*- 
ed  thy  ckcek 

tlo  rosy  and  so  dim\  nd,  when  thou  didst  try  u 
spentc 

And  1 have  rocked  thy  c Jle,  and  sung  thy  lullaby, 

And  watch’d  till  thine  ty  s opened,  as  blue  as  the 
blue  sky. 

And  so  thou  wast  a part  o'  jay  life  and  of  my  joy  ! 

No ! ne’er  shall  I forget  chee,  my  darling,  darling 
boy !’ 

And  all  the  birds  sang,  too,  the  flowers 
danced  on  their  stems,  and  the  old  trees 
bowed  their  heads,  while  the  kind-hearted 
old  man  told  his  story. 


83 


(DU  jDnrknif. 


WEDNESDAY. 

Well,  to  be  sure  ! How  the  rain  is  pour- 
ing down  without ! Hialmar  could  hear  it 
even  in  his  sleep ; and  when  Ole  opened  the 
window  the  water  reached  to  the  very  sill ; 
it  was  quite  a lake  : but  the  most  magnifi  • 
cent  ship  lay  just  before  the  house. 

“Will  you  sail  with  me,  little  Hialmar  7” 
said  Ole  ; “ if  you  will,  you  can  go  and  visit 
foreign  countries  with  me  to-night,  and  be 
here  again  in  the  morning.” 

And  all  at  once  there  stood  Hialmar  in 
his  Sunday  clothes  on  the  deck  of  the  splen- 
did ship ; and  it  grew  beautiful  weather  im- 
mediately, and  they  sailed  through  the 
streets,  and  round  about  by  the  church,  and 
the  whole  place  was  now  a large  wild  sea. 
They  sailed  on  so  long  till  at  last  no  land 
was  to  be  seen,  and  they  perceived  a flight 
of  storks  coming  from  Hialmar’s  home,  and 
gc  ing  to  warmer  climes.  They  always  flew 
one  behind  the  other,  and  they  had  already 
flown  so  very,  very  far ! One  of  them  was 


dDU  Inrkni!. 


so  tired,  that  his  wings  could  scaicely  carry 
him  further ; he  was  the  last  of  all,  and  he 
soon  remained  a great  way  behind.  At  last, 
with  outspread  wings,  he  sank  lower  and 
lower,  beat  the  air  a few  times  with  his  pin- 
ions, but  in  vain.  His  wings  touched  the 
rigging  of  the  ship,  he  slipped  down  from 
the  sail,  and,  plump  ! — there  he  stood  on  the 
deck  ! 

Upon  this  a sailor-boy  took  him  and  put 
him  into  a hen-coop  with  the  pot*Ury,  along 
with  the  ducks  and  turkeys.  The  poor 
stork  stood  among  them  quite  out  of  coun- 
tenance. 

“Only  look,  what  an  odd  sort  of  fellow 
that  is  !”  said  all  the  cocks  and  hens.  And 
the  turkey-cock  puffed  himself  up  as  much 
as  he  could,  and  asked  him  who  he  was. 
And  the  ducks  walked  backwards,  and  nod- 
ded to  each  other. 

And  the  stork  told  them  of  sultry  Africa, 
of  the  pyramids,  and  of  the  ostrich  that  races 
over  the  desert  like  a wild  horse.  Hut  the 
ducks  did  not  understand  him,  and  again 
nodded  their  heads,  and  said  one  to  another, 

e 15 


(Dif  tuthit. 


“ SliaL  we  not  agree  that  he  is  a simple- 
ton ?” 

“ Yes,  to  be  sure,  he  is  a simpleton,”  said 
the  turkey-cock,  gobbling. 

So  the  stork  was  silent,  and  thought  of 
his  dear  Africa. 

“ Those  are  very  pretty  thin  legs  of 
yours,”  said  the  turkey;  “pray,  what  do 
they  cost  a yard?” 

“ Quack  ! quack  ! quack  !”  giggled  all 
the  ducks ; but  the  stork  did  as  if  he  had 
not  heard  them. 

“ Oh,  you  might  very  well  have  laughed, 
too,”  said  the  turkey  to  the  stork,  “ for  the 
joke  was  a good  one.  But  perhaps  it  was 
not  high  enough  for  you  ! Ha  ! ha  ! ha ! 
he  is  a shallow  fellow,  so  let  us  not  waste 
our  words  upon  him,  but  keep  our  clever 
things  for  ourselves  !”  And  then  he  gob- 
bled, and  the  ducks  gabbled,  “ quack ! 
quack  ! quack  i!  It  was  really  laughable 
to  see  how  amused  they  were. 

But  Hialmar  went  to  the  hen-coop,  and 
called  the  stork,  who  hopped  out  to  him  on 
the  deck.  He  had  now  rested,  and  it  seem- 


(DIb  Inrknit. 


ed  as  if  he  nodded  to  Hialmar  to  thank  him; 
then  he  spread  out  his  wings  and  flew  away 
to  warm  lands ; but  the  fowls  clucked,  the 
ducks  gabbled,  and  the  turkey  grew  as  red 
as  fire. 

“ We’ll  make  soup  of  you  to-morrow,” 
said  Hialmar;  and  saying  these  words  he 
awoke,  and  was  lying  in  his  own  little  bed. 
That  was  a strange  journey  that  Ole  had 
taken  him  in  the  night ! 

THURSDAY. 

“ What  do  you  think  ?”  said  Ole ; “ but 
don’t  be  afraid:  I’ll  show  you  a little 
mouse.”  And  he  held  out  his  hand  to  him 
with  the  pretty  little  creature.  “ She  is 
come  to  invite  you  to  a wedding.  There 
are  here  two  little  mice  that  are  to  be  mar- 
ried this  evening.  They  live  under  the  floor 
of  your  larder ; and  they  say  it  is  u won- 
drous charming  residence  !” 

“ But  how  can  I get  through  th  i little 
mouse-hole  ?”  asked  llialmar. 

“ Leave  that  to  me,”  said  the  old  man 

27 


éi  Xuthlt 


* I’ll  take  care  lo  make  you  small  enough.’ 
And  he  touched  Hialmar  with  his  wand, 
and  he  grew  smaller  and  smaller  immedi- 
ately, till  at  last  he  was  not  bigger  than  a 
linger.  “ Now,  then,  you  can  put  on  the 
little  leaden  soldier’s  clothes ; I think  they’ll 
fit  you,  and  it  looks  so  well  to  have  on  uni- 
form when  one  is  in  company.” 

“ Yery  well,”  said  Hialmar;  and  in  the 
same  moment  he  was  dressed  like  the  nicest 
little  leaden  soldier. 

“ If  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  take  a 
seat  in  your  mamma’s  thimble,”  said  the 
little  mouse,  “ I will  do  myself  the  honor  to 
draw  you.” 

“Oh,  your  ladyship  surely  won’t  take  the 
trouble  yourself!”  said  Hialmar,  and  on 
they  drove  to  the  wedding. 

First  they  came  into  a long  gallery  under 
the  floor,  that  was  just  high  enough  to  drive 
through  with  the  thimble,  and  was  lighted 
the  whole  way"  with  touchwood,  which 
shone  in  the  dark  brilliantly. 

“Does  it  not  smell  deliciously  here  I” 
said  the  mouse  that  drew  him  along ; “ the 
28 


(Dit  Iitrknir. 


whole  corridor  has  been  rubbed  with  bacon- 
rind — there  can  be  nothing  nicer!” 

Now  they  came  into  the  hall  where  was 
the  bridal  pair.  On  the  right  stood  the  lady 
mice,  who  whispered  as  if  they  were  amus- 
ing themselves  at  the  others’  expense ; and 
on  the  left  stood  the  gentlemen  mice,  strok- 
ing their  whiskers  with  their  paws  ; and  in 
the  middle  of  the  room  one  beheld  the  mar- 
riage pair,  standing  in  a hollow  cheese  •,  and 
they  kissed  each  other  before  every  body, 
for  they  were  betrothed  and  were  just  going 
to  be  married.  More  and  more  company 
came;  the  mice  almost  trampled  each  other 
to  death,  and  the  two  whose  wedding  was 
to  be  celebrated  stationed  themselves  right 
in  the  door-way,  so  that  there  was  no  going 
in  or  out.  The  whole  room,  like  the  corri- 
dor, had  been  rubbed  with  bacon-rind  ; this 
was  all  the  refreshment  they  got;  but  as 
dessert,  a pea  was  shown,  in  which  a little 
mouse  of  the  family  had  bitten  the  names  of 
the  wedding  pair;  that  is  to  say,  the  initials 
only.  It  was  beautiful  beyond  all  descrip- 
tion 


<JM?  Xtølmi!. 


All  the  mice  said  the  wedding  was  very 
grand,  and  that  the  conversation,  too,  had 
been  very  good. 

Now  Hialmar  drove  home  again.  He 
had,  it  is  true,  been  in  very  high  society; 
but  he  had  been  obliged  to  bend,  and  creep, 
and  make  himself  very  small,  and  put  on  a 
leaden  soldier’s  uniform. 


FRIDAY. 

It  is  incredible  what  a quantity  of  o,d 
people  are  always  wanting  to  have  me,” 
said  Ole  Luckoie  ; “particularly  those  who 
havfe  done  something  wicked  ! ‘ Good,  dear 

Ole  Luckoie,’  say  they  to  me,  £ we  cannot 
close  our  eyes ; and  we  lie  the  whole  night, 
and  see  all  our  misdeeds,  that  sit  like  little 
ugly  goblins  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and 
sprinkle  us  with  hot  water.  Do  come  and 
drive  them  away,  that  we  may  get  a little 
sound  sleep !’  And  then  they  heave  deep 
Bighs.  ‘We  will  willingly  pay  you  : — good 
night,  Ole ; the  money  lies  on  the  window- 
30 


(JMe  Tutte. 


sill !’  Bu*.  1 don’t  do  it  foi  money,”  said 
the  old  man. 

“ What  shall  we  undertake  to-night  ?” 
said  Hialmar. 

“ Why,  I don’t  know  if  you  would  like  to 
go  to  a wedding : it  is  quite  a different  sort 
of  one  to  yesterday’s.  Your  sister’s  large 
doll,  that  looks  like  a man,  and  is  called 
Herman,  is  to  marry  the  doll  Bertha ; be- 
sides, it  is  her  birthday  ; so  many  presents 
will  arrive.” 

“Yes,  I know,”  said  Hialmar;  “every 
time  the  doll  wants  new  clothes,  my  sister 
6ays  it  is  her  birth-day,  or  her  wedding.  * 
That  has  happened  a hundred  times  already 
for  certain.” 

“ Yes,  but  to-night  is  the  wedding  for  the 
hundred-and-first  time ; and  after  it  has 
happened  a hundred  and  one  times,  then  all 
is  over.  This  time,  therefore,  it  will  be  un- 
paralleled : only  look  !” 

And  Hialmar  looked  on  the  table.  There 
stood  the  little  pasteboard  baby-house,  with 
lights  in  the  windows,  and  before  the  door 
were  all  theicadcn  soldiers  presenting  arms 

31 


dM*  Tmhlt 


the  wedding  pair  were  sitting  on  the  floor, 
leaning  thoughtfully  against  the  leg  of  the 
table.  Then  Ole  Luckoie  put  on  grand- 
mamma’s black  gown,  and  married  them. 
When  the  wedding  was  over,  all  the  furni- 
ture in  the  room  began  singing  the  following 
6ong,  which  the  lead-pencil  had  written  for 
the  occasion : 

“ Ho,  for  the  bridegroom  ! and  ho,  for  the  bride 
That’s  standing  beside  him  in  beauty’s  pride  ! 
Her  skin  it  is  made  of  a white  kid-glove, 

And  on  her  he  looks  with  an  eye  of  love 
Joy  to  the  husband,  and  joy  to  the  wife, 

And  happiness,  too,  and  a long,  long  life !” 

And  then  presents  were  made  them , 
but  no  eatables  were  given  : this  they  had 
themselves  desired ; for  they  had  quite 
enough  with  love. 

“ Shall  we  go  into  the  country  now,  or 
make  a tour  abroad?”  asked  the  bride- 
groom ; and  the  swallow,  who  was  a great 
traveller,  and  the  old  hen  in  the  court  that 
had  brooded  six  times,  were  called  in  to  give 
their  advice ; and  the  swallow  related  about 
32 


dMt  Xnrknif. 


the  beautiful  warm  countries  where  lurg* 
and  clustering  grapes  hang  on  the  vines, 
where  the  air  is  mild,  and  where  the  moun- 
tains have  tints  that  are  here  unknown. 

“But  you  have  not  our  green  cabbages 
there,”  said  the  Hen.  “ I passed  one  sum- 
mer in  the  country  with  all  my  young  fami- 
ly : there  was  a sandpit  there,  in  which  we 
could  go  and  scratch ; besides  that,  we  were 
allowed  to  be  in  a garden  full  of  green  cab- 
bages. Oh,  how  green  it  was ! I cannot 
imagine  any  thing  more  lovely  !” 

“ But  one  cabbage-head  looks  just  like 
the  other,”  said  the  Swallow;  “and  then 
here  you  have  so  often  bad  weather.” 

“ One  is  accustomed  to  it,”  said  the  Hen. 

“ But  it  is  cold  here,  it  freezes !” 

“ That  is  good  for  the  cabbage,”  said  the 
Hen.  “ Besides  it  can  be  warm  here,  too. 
Had  we  not  four  years  ago  a summer  that 
lasted  five  weeks?  It  was  so  hot  that  one 
could  hardly  breathe.  Moreover,  here  are 
none  of  the  poisonous  animals  that  are  found 
abroad.  Here  we  have  no  robbers ! He 
must  be  a blockhead  that  does  not  think  our 
a 33 


dDtø  Xtøknit. 


country  tlie  finest  in  the  world  ■ Such  a 
one  does  not  deserve  to  live  in  it !”  And  at 
these  words  tears  ran  down  the  Hen’s  cheeks. 
“ I have  travelled,  too  ! I have  travelled  in 
a hamper  more  than  twelve  miles.  There 
is  no  such  great  pleasure  in  travelling  that 
I can  see !” 

“Yes,  the  Hen  is  a sensible  person,”  said 
the  Doll  Bertha.  “ I have  no  great  wish  to 
travel  over  mountains  either ; for  that  is 
nothing  else  but  going  up  and  then  coming 
down  again.  No,  we  will  take  a trip  to  the 
sand-pit,  and  go  walking  in  the  cabbage- 
garden.” 

And  so  the  matter  was  settled. 

SATURDAY. 

“ Am  I to  hear  a story?”  said  little  Hial- 
mar,  as  soon  as  the  good-natured  Ole  had 
got  him  to  sleep. 

“ We  have  no  time  this  evening,”  said 
Ole,  spreading  out  his  handsomest  umbrella 
over  him.  “ Look  at  these  Chinese  !”  And 
the  large  umbrella  looked  like  a great  china 
34 


m rnrkni?. 


plate  with  blue  trees  ami  pointed  bridges, 
full  of  little  Chinese  standing  and  nodding 
their  heads. 

“ We  must  get  the  whole  in  order  for  to- 
morrow,” said  Ole  Luckoie;  “to-morrow  is 
a holyday,  it  is  Sunday.  I must  go  up  to 
the  church-tower,  to  see  if  all  the  little 
church-sprites  have  polished  the  bells,  that 
they  may  sound  melodiously.  1 must  away 
into  the  fields,  to  see  if  the  winds  have 
swept  the  dust  from  the  grass  and  the  leaves; 
I must  take  down  all  the  stars  and  polish 
them.  I take  them  all  in  my  apron;  but 
they  must  first  be  numbered,  and  the  holes 
where  they  belong  must  be  numbered,  too, 
so  that  each  may  get  his  right  place  again, 
otherwise  they  would  not  fit  tight;  and  we 
«hould  have  a quantity  of  falling  stars  if  one 
after  the  other  were  to  tumble  down.” 

“ I’ll  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Ole  Luckoie,” 
said  an  old  Portrait,  that  hung  on  the  wall 
near  which  Hialmar  slept.  “ I am  Hial* 
mar’s  great-grandfather.  I am  very  much 
obliged  to  you  for  telling  the  boy  pretty 
stories,  but  you  must  not  set  his  ideas  iii 

35 


<DU  X'urknir. 


confusion.  Stars  cannot  he  taken  down  and 
polished.  Stars  are  globes  like  our  world, 
and  that  is  the  very  best  thing  about  them.” 

“ Many  thanks,  old  great-grandfather !” 
said  Ole.  “ Very  many  thanks ! You  are, 
it  is  true,  an  old  great-grandfather,  but  I am 
older  than  you.  I am  an  old  heathen ; the 
Greeks  and  Romans  named  me  the  God  of 
Dreams.  I have  been  in  the  houses  of  the 
great,  and  still  go  there.  I know  how  to 
deal  with  great  and  little  ! Now,  then,  do 
you  tell  a story  !”  And  old  Ole  went  away 
and  took  his  umbrella  with  him. 

“ Now-a-days  one  dares  not  say  what  one 
thinks  !”  murmured  the  old  Portrait 

And  here  Hialmar  awoke. 

SUNDAY. 

“ Good  evening,”  said  Ole ; and  Hialmar 
nodded,  and  ran  quickly  to  the  portrait  of 
his  great-grandfather,  and  turned  it  with  the 
face  to  the  wall,  in  order  that  it  might  not 
mix  in  the  conversation  as  it  did  yesterday 
evening. 


(Die  Iurknif. 


*<  Now  you  must  tell  me  a story  alx:  ut  the 
five  green  peas  that  lived  in  a pea-shell,  and 
about  the  cock  that  paid  his  addresses  to  the 
hen,  and  of  the  darning-needle  that  wanted 
to  be  very  fine,  and  fancied  itself  a sewing- 
needle.” 

“ One  can  have  too  much  of  a good  thing, 
said  Ole.  “ I will  rather  show  you  something. 
I will  show  you  my  brother ; but  he  never 
comes  but  once ; and  when  he  does  come  to 
any  body  he  takes  him  on  his  horse,  and 
tells  him  stories.  He  knows  only  two ; the 
one  is  indescribably  beautiful,  such  as  no 
one  in  the  world  can  imagine ; and  the  other 
is  so  horrible  and  frightful — I cannot  say 
how  dreadful !”  And  he  lifted  little  Hial- 
mar  up  to  the  window,  and  said  : “ Ihere, 
look  at  my  brother,  the  other  Ole ; he  is,  it 
is  true,  sometimes  called  Death  ! You  see, 
he  does  not  look  half  so  horrid  as  he  is  made 
in  picture- Dooks,  where  he  is  all  bones.  All 
that  is  silver  embroidery  that  he  has  on  his 
dress  ! it  is  the  richest  hussar  uniform  ! a 
cloak  of  black  velvet  flies  behind  him  over 
his  horse  : I x>k ! how  he  gallops  !” 


v 


dMf  Itirkntt. 


And  Hialmar  saw  how  O.e  Luckoie'i 
brother  rode  away,  and  took  the  young  and 
the  old  up  with  him  on  his  horse.  Some  he 
•set  before  him,  and  others  behind ; but  he 
tl ways  asked  first  what  testimonials  they 
>lad. 

“ Oh,  good  ones,”  said  they  all.  “ Yes, 
out  let  me  look  myself,”  said  he ; and  then 
they  were  obliged  to  show  him  the  book : 
and  all  those  who  had  “ very  good,”  or 
“ particularly  good,”  came  before  him  on 
norseback,  and  heard  the  beautiful  story ; 
but  those  who  had  “ pretty  well,”  oi 
“ bad,”  in  their  books,  were  obliged  to  get 
behind  and  hear  the  dreadful  one.  They 
trembled  and  cried,  and  wanted  to  jump 
down  from  the  horse,  but  they  could  not,  for 
they  and  the  horse  had  grown  together. 

“ But  Death  is  the  more  beautiful  of  the 
two,”  said  Hialmar;  “I  am  not  afraid  of 
him.” 

“Nor  should  you  be,”  said  Ole;  “only 
take  care  that  you  have  a good  certificate  in 
your  book.” 

“Yes,  that  is  instructive,”  murmured  the 
38 


dMf  Inrknif. 


great-grandpapa's  portrait;  “it  i-s,  however, 
a good  thing  to  express  one’s  opinion  aftci 
all and  now  the  old  gentleman  was 
pleased. 

Well,  that  is  the  story  of  Ole  Luckoie, 
and  this  evening  he  can  tell  you  some  mors 
tales. 


i 


€\}t  S&tukrafuo!. 


F,  after  a thunder- 
storm, you  go  into  a 
field  where  Buck- 
wheat is  growing, 
you  will  sometimes 
see  that  it  looks 
quite  black  and  sing- 
ed ; just  as  if  a 
stream  of  flame  had  passed  over  it : and 
then  the  farmer  says,  “ The  lightning  haa 
done  this.”  But  how  is  it  that  the  lightning 
does  it  ? I will  tell  you  what  the  Sparrow 
told  me,  and  the  sparrow  heard  it  from  an 
old  Willow-tree  that  stood  in  a field  ol 
40 


Æfje  ‘iinrkiujirnt. 

Buckwheat,  and  is  still  standing  there.  It 
is  a large  and  quite  a venerable  Willow,  tut 
old  and  wrinkled,  and  is  cleft  from  top  tc 
bottom;  and  out  of  the  clefts  grow  black- 
berry-bushes and  grass.  The  tree  bends 
forwards,  and  the  branches  almost  reach  the 
ground — it  looks  like  long  green  hair  hang- 
ing down.  In  all  the  fields  around  grain 
was  growing:  Rye,  Buckwheat,  and  Oats. 
Yes,  beautiful  Oats,  that  look,  when  ripe, 
like  a whole  sea  of  little  golden  canaries  sit- 
ting on  a bough.  The  grain  stood  there  in 
such  blessed  fulness  ; and  the  heavier  it  was 
the  lower  it  bowed  in  pious  humility. 

A field  of  Buckwheat  was  there,  too,  and 
it  lay  just  before  the  old  Willow-tree.  But 
the  Buckwheat  bowed  not  down  as  did  the 
other  grain  ; stiff  and  proud,  there  it  stood. 

“I  am  quite  as  rich  as  the  ears  of  Com,” 
it  said,  “and,  besides,  I am  much  more 
beautiful ; my  flowers  are  as  lovely  as  the 
blossom  of  the  Apple-tree  : it  is  quite  a plea- 
sure to  look  at  me  ! Did  you  ever  see  any 
thing  more  splendid  than  we  arc,  old  Wil- 
low-tree 1” 


41 


tStyr  36nrktnjr?nt, 


And  the  Willow  nodded  as  though  he 
would  say,  “Yes,  certainly  I have.”  But 
the  Buckwheat  was  puffed  up  with  pride, 
end  said,  “ The  stupid  tree  ! he  is  so  old 
that  gTass  is  growing  over  his  body  !” 

Now,  a dreadful  thunder-storm  drew 
near ; all  the  flowers  of  the  field  folded  their 
leaves,  or  bowed  their  heads,  while  the 
tempest  passed  : but  the  Buckwheat,  in  his 
pride,  stood  quite  erect. 

“ Bow  thy  head,  as  we  do,”  said  the 
Flowers. 

“I  shall  do  no  such  thing!”  said  the 
Buckwheat. 

“ Bow  thy  head,  as  we  do,”  said  the 
Corn;  “ the  Spirit  of  the  storm  is  about  to 
rush  by.  He  hath  wings  which  reach  from 
the  clouds  unto  the  earth ; he  will  dash  thee 
down  before  thou  hast  time  to  implore  him 
to  be  merciful !” 

“ No,  I will  not  bend,”  said  the  Buck- 
wheat. 

“ Close  thy  flowers,  and  bend  down  thy 
leaves,”  said  the  old  Willow-tree;  “look 
not  into  the  glare  of  the  lightning  when  the 
42 


€\)t  SGncItnijjfnt. 


cloud  bursts:  mon  even  dare  not  do  that 
for  in  the  lightning  one  seetli  into  God’s  own 
heaven,  and  that  sight  is  enough  to  dazzle 
even  man  : how  would  it  fare  with  us,  mere 
plants  of  the  earth,  if  we  dared  to  do  it?  we 
are  so  much  less  !” 

“So  much  less!”  said  the  Buckwheat; 
“ now  just  for  that  I will  gaze  into  God’s 
own  heaven  !”  and  he  did  do  so  in  his  pride 
and  presumption.  It  was  as  if  the  whole 
world  was  in  fire  and  (lame,  so  terribly  did 
it  lighten. 

Later,  when  the  storm  was  over,  there 
stood  the  Flowers  and  the  Corn  in  the  calm 
pure  air  refreshed  by  the  rain ; but  the 
Buckwheat  was  burned  by  the  lightning  as 
black  as  a coal : it  lay  a dead  useless  plant 
upon  the  field. 

And  the  old  Willow  moved  its  branches 
in  the  wind,  and  large  drops  fell  from  the 
green  leaves,  as  though  the  tree  wept.  And 
the  Sparrows  asked  : “ What  are  you  weep- 
ing for?  It  is  so  beautiful  here!  Look 
how  the  sun  is  shining;  look  how  the  clouds 
are  sailing  on  ! I)o  you  not  smell  the  fra- 

4 3 


d'tjc  3SntknrIjEnt. 


grance  of  the  flowers  and  of  the  bushes) 
What  are  you  weeping  for,  then,  you  old 
Wiliow  ? 

And  the  Willow  told  them  of  the  pride 
and  presumption  of  the  Buckwheat,  and  ol 
the  punishment  that  is  sure  to  follow.  I. 
who  relate  the  story,  heard  it  from  the  Spar- 
rows : they  told  it  me  one  evening  when  J 
begged  for  a fairy-tale. 


M 


<pl)e  røilii  fuians, 


j)  AR,  far  from  here, 
in  the  land  whi- 
ther the  swallows  fly 
when  with  us  it  is  winter, 
there  dwelt  a King,  who  had 
eleven  sons,  and  one  daugh- 
ter named  Elise.  The 
eleven  brothers,  princes  all, 
went  to  school  with  stars  on  their  breast, 
and  swords  at  their  side.  They  wrote  on 
golden  tablets  with  pencils  of  diamond  ; and 
they  could  read  in  any  hook,  and  out  of  any 
book:  you  heard  in  a moment  that  they 
were  Princes  Their  sister  Elise  sat  on  a 

45 


Jttle  stool  of  looking-glass,  and  had  a pic- 
ture-book that  had  cost  half  a kingdom. 

What  a happy  life  the  children  led ! but 
it  was  not  to  last  long. 

Their  father,  the  King  of  the  whole  coun- 
try, married  a wicked  Queen,  who  treated 
the  children  very  ill.  On  the  very  first  day 
they  felt  the  difference.  There  was  a great 
festival  at  the  palace,  and  the  children  play- 
ed at  visiting ; but  instead  of  having  roasted 
apples  and  cakes,  as  formerly,  the  Queen 
gave  them  only  sand  in  little  saucers,  and 
said,  “ they  must  fancy  it  was  something 
good  to  eat.” 

The  following  week  she  sent  little  sister 
Elise  to  some  peasants  in  the  country  ; and 
it  was  not  long  before  she  had  something 
bad  of  the  Princes  to  tell  the  King,  so  that 
he  no  longer  cared  much  about  them. 

“Be  off!  go  into  the  world,  and  take 
care  of  yourselves  !”  said  the  wicked  Queen. 
“ Fly  off  in  the  shape  of  large  dumb  birds!” 
But  yet  she  could  not  make  it  quite  so  bad 
as  she  wished ; and  into  eleven  beautiful 
white  swans  were  the  Princes  changed 


<£Ijt  15 till  fraans. 


With  a strange  cry,  they  flew  out  of  the 
windows  of  the  palace,  and  disappeared  ovei 
the  park  and  the  wood. 

It  was  still  very  early  in  the  morning 
when  they  passed  by  the  place  where  Elis«* 
was  lying  asleep  in  the  peasant’s  cottage 
They  flew  in  circles  round  the  roof,  turned 
their  long  necks  here  and  there,  and  beat 
the  air  with  their  wings ; but  nobody  heard 
or  saw  them,  and  they  were  obliged  to  con- 
tinue their  flight  up  into  the  c’.ouds,  and 
over  the  wide  world.  Then  they  flew  to 
the  great  gloomy  wood,  which  extended  to 
the  sea-shore. 

Poor  little  Elise  stood  in  the  peasant’s 
room,  and  played  with  a green  leaf ; for  it 
was  the  only  thing  she  had  to  play  with. 
She  made  a hole  in  the  leaf,  and  through  it 
peeped  at  the  sun ; and  it  seemed  to  her  a a 
though  she  saw  the  bright  eyes  of  her  bro- 
thers ; and  as  often  as  the  warm  sunbeams 
fell  on  her  cheeks,  she  thought  of  her  bro- 
thers’ kisses. 

Each  day  passed  like  the  other.  If  the 
wind  blew  through  the  great  rose-tree  be- 


€Ijb  Ituniis. 


fore  the  house,  it  whispered  to  the  roses, 
fi  Who  is  more  lovely  than  ye  are?”  But 
the  roses  shook  their  heads  and  said,  “ Elise 
is  far  more  lovely  !”  And  if  the  old  wife 
sat  on  a Sunday  before  the  cottage-door, 
and  read  in  her  book  of  hymns,’  the  wind 
turned  over  the  leaves,  and  said  to  the  book, 
“ Who  is  more  pious  than  thou  ?”  “ Elise !” 
answered  the  hymn-book ; and  what  the 
roses  and  the  hymn-book  said  was  quite 
true. 

When  Elise  was  fifteen  years  old,  she  was 
to  return  home ; but  as  soon  as  the  Queen 
saw  how  beautiful  she  was,  she  took  such 
an  aversion  to  her  that  she  would  have  liked 
to  change  her  into  a wild  swan  like  her 
brothers.  However,  she  did  not  dare  to  do 
so,  because  the  King  wanted  to  see  his  daugh- 
ter. 

One  morning  early,  the  Queen  went 
into  her  bath,  which  was  of  marble,  and 
ornamented  with  soft  cushions  and  costly 
carpets.  She  took  three  toads,  kissed  them, 
and  said  to  one  of  them,  “Do  thou  sit  on 
the  head  of  Elise  when  she  goes  tc  bathe, 
48 


Æjje  føilll  ånmns. 


that  she  may  become  as  lazy  and  drowsy  as 
thou  art.”  “ Sit  thou  on  her  forehead,” 
said  she  to  another,  “ that  she  may  grow  as 
ugly  as  thou  art,  so  that  her  father  may  not 
recognise  her.”  “Do  thou  lie  in  her  bo- 
som,” said  she  to  the  third,  “ that  her  heart 
may  be  tainted,  and  that  she  may  grow 
wicked,  and  be  her  own  punishment.” 

Then  she  put  the  toads  into  the  clear  wa- 
ter, which  immediately  assumed  a greenish 
color ; and  she  called  Elise,  undressed  her, 
and  made  her  step  into  the  bath,  and  put 
her  head  under  the  water.  And  then  one 
toad  sat  in  her  hair,  the  other  on  her  fore- 
head, and  the  third  on  her  bosom ; but  Elise 
did  not  seem  to  remark  it.  When  she  left 
the  bath  there  swam  three  red  poppies  on 
the  water;  and  had  the  animals  not  been 
poisonous,  and  kissed  ty  the  witch,  they 
would  have  been  turned  into  roses,  from 
tarrying  a while  on  Elise  s heart  and  head. 
She  was  too  pious  for  witchcraft  to  hav« 
any  power  over  her. 

When  the  wicked  Queen  saw  this,  she 
rubbed- the  child  all  over  with  walnut-juice, 

4 i 49 


tju  Sili  &wm. 


till  she  was  of  a dark-brown  color ; smeared 
her  lovely  face  with  a stinking  ointment, 
and  made  her  tine  long  hair  hang  in  wild 
confusion.  To  recognise  the  beautiful  Elise 
was  now  impossible. 

When  her  father  saw  her  he  started,  and 
said  that  she  was  not  his  daughter.  No- 
body knew  her  again,  except  the  house-dog 
and  the  swallow  ; but  they  were  poor  crea- 
tures, who  had  nothing  to  say  in  the  matter. 

Poor  Elise  wept  bitterly,  and  thought  of 
her  eleven  brothers,  not  one  of  whom  did 
she  see  at  the  palace.  Much  afflicted,  she 
stole  away,  and  walked  across  field  and 
moor  to  the  large  forest.  She  knew  not 
whither  she  wanted  to  go  ;*  but  she  was  very 
dejected,  and  had  such  a longing  after  her 
brothers,  who,  no  doubt,  had  been  turned 
adrift  in  the  world,  too ; them  would  she 
seek,  and  she  was  determined  to  find  them. 

She  had  not  been  long  in  the  forest  before 
night  came  on,  and  she  lost  her  way  in  the 
dark.  So  she  laid  herself  down  in  the  soft 
moss,  said  her  evening  prayer,  and  leaned 
her  head  on  the  stump  of  a tree.  It  was  sc 
50 


€\p  Itfilii  »ns. 

still  in  the  forest,  the  air  was  so  mild,  and 
around  in  the  grass  and  on  the  moss  there 
gleamed  the  green  light  of  many  hundred 
glow-worms ; and  when  she  gently  touched 
one  of  the  branches  with  her  hand,  the  radi- 
ant insects  came  down  to  her  like  falling 
stars. 

The  whole  night  she  dreamed  of  her  bro- 
thers : they  played  again  like  children,  wrote 
on  golden  tablets  with  pencils  of  diamond, 
and  looked  at  the  pretty  picture-book  that 
had  cost  half  a kingdom;  but  on  the  tablets 
they  did  not  merely  write  as  formerly, 
strokes  and  O’s ; no,  now  they  described  the 
bold  deeds  that  they  had  accomplished,  and 
the  strange  fortunes  they  had  experienced  ; 
and  in  the  picture-book  all  was  animated— 
the  birds  sang,  the  men  stepped  out  of  the 
book  and  spoke  will . Elise  and  her  brothers : 
but  when  she  tun  ed  over  a leaf,  in  they 
jumped  again  directly,  in  order  that  the  pic- 
tures might  not  get  into  confusion. 

When  Elise  awoke,  the  sun  was  already 
high  in  the  heaven  : it  is  true  she  could  not 
seo  it,  the  high  trees  interwove  their  leafy 

51 


CjjB  Mil  lira. 


branches  so  closely ; but  the  sunbeams  play* 
ed  upon  them,  and  looked  like  a waving 
golden  gauze.  There  was  such  a fragrance 
from  the  verdure;  and  the  birds  almost 
perched  on  Elise’ s shoulder.  She  heard  the 
water  splashing;  for  there  were  many  con- 
siderable brooks  which  all  met  in  a pond 
with  a beautiful  sandy  bottom : ’tis  true 
thick  bushes  grew  all  around  it;  but  the 
deer  had  broken  a broad  way  through,  and 
on  this  path  Elise  went  to  the  water.  It 
was  so  clear,  that  if  the  boughs  and  the 
bushes  had  not  been  waved  backwards  and 
forwards  by  the  wind,  one  would  have  been 
forced  to  believe  that  they  were  painted,  and 
lay  down  at  the  bottom,  so  distinctly  was 
every  leaf  reflected,  those  that  glowed  in  the 
sunlight  as  well  as  those  which  lay  in  the 
shade. 

When  Elise  saw  her  face  in  the  water  she 
was  much  frightened,  so  brown  and  ugly 
did  she  look ; but  when  she  wetted  her  little 
hand  and  rubbed  her  eyes  and  forehead,  the 
white  skin  appeared  again ; and  Elise  laid 
her  clothes  aside  and  stepped  into  the  fresh 

52 


€1 it  TØilil  »ns. 


water, — a more  lovely  royal  child  than  she 
was  not  to  be  found  in  the  whole  world. 

After  she  had  dressed  herself  and  braided 
her  long  hair,  she  went  to  the  bubbling 
spring,  drank  out  of  the  hollow  of  her  hand, 
and  wandered  farther  into  the  wood — she 
herself  knew  not  whither.  She  thought  of 
her  brothers,  thought  of  the  cver-watchful 
and  good  God,  Who  would  certainly  not 
forsake  her ; for  it  was  He  Who  made  the 
wild  apples  to  grow,  to  give  food  to  the 
hungry ; and  He  showed  her  a tree  whose 
branches  bent  down  under  the  weight  of  the 
fruit.  Here  she  dined,  put  props  under  the 
branches,  and  then  went  into  the  thickest 
part  of  the  wood.  It  was  so  still  there  that 
she  heard  her  own  footsteps,  ar.d  the  rustle 
of  every  withered  leaf  that  bent  beneath  her 
feet.  Not  a bird  was  to  be  seen,  not  a sun- 
beam penetrated  the  thick  foliage-roof;  and 
the  high  trunks  stood  so  near  together,  that 
when  she  looked  straight  forward,  a grating 
of  wooden  beams  seemed  to  close  around 
ner:  oh,  it  was  a solitude  such  as  Klise  had 
never  known  ! And  the  night  was  so  dark 

53 


— not  a single  glow-worm  shone  ! Much 
afflicted,  she  lay  down  to  sleep ; and  there 
it  seemed  to  her  as  if  the  boughs  above  her 
parted,  and  the  ever- watchful  and  good  God 
looked  down  upon  her  with  an  eye  of  love, 
and  a thousand  little  angels  peeped  forth  to 
gaze  at  her  from  the  clouds. 

On  awaking  the  next  morning,  she  did  not 
know  if  it  were  a dream,  or  if  it  had  really 
happened. 

She  went  a few  steps  further  on,  when 
she  met  an  old  woman  with  a basket  full  ol 
berries.  The  old  woman  gave  her  some 
Elise  asked  her  if  she  had  not  seen  eleven 
Princes  riding  through  the  wood. 

. “No,”  answered  the  woman;  “ but  yes- 
terday I saw  eleven  swans,  with  golden 
crowns  on  their  heads,  swim  down  the 
stream  near  here.” 

And  she  led  Elise  to  a hill,  at  whose  foot 
a brook  flowed  winding  along  ; the  trees  on 
either  bank  stretched  their  long  leafy 
branches  towards  each  other,  and  where  on 
Account  of  their  natural  growth  they  were 
unable  to  meet,  the  roots  had  loosened  them- 


€Ijb  Will  #mans. 


selves  from  the  earth  and  hung  interwoven 
over  the  water. 

Elise  bade  the  old  woman  farewell,  and 
walked  on  by  the  side  of  the  brook  to  the 
spot  where  it  flowed  into  the  great  and  open 
sea. 

The  whole  sea  lay  spread  out  before  the 
maiden  ; but  not  a sail,  not  a boat  was  to  bo 
seen  : how  was  she  to  go  on  ? She  looked 
at  the  countless  pebbles  on  the  shore ; they 
were  all  smooth  and  rounded  by  the  water; 
glass,  iron,  stones — all  that  lay  on  the  shore 
had  received  this  form  from  the  water ; and 
yet  it  was  much  softer  than  her  little  deli- 
cate hand.  “ It  rolls  on  untiringly,  and 
even  what  is  hard  is  made  smooth.  Not  less 
untiring  will  1 be  i thanks  for  the  lesson,  ye 
clear  rolling  waves ; some  day,  so  my  heart 
tells  me,  ye  will  bear  me  to  where  my  dear 
brothers  are  !” 

On  the  sea- weed  which  was  washed  up  on 
the  shore  lay  eleven  white  swans’  feathers  ; 
Elise  collected  them  into  a nosegay  : somt 
drops  were  hanging  on  them,  but  whethe* 

dew  or  tears  it  was  impossible  to  distinguish 

»5 


€Irc  itfilii  Minims. 


On  the  shore  it  was  very  solitary,  but  she 
felt  it  not ; for  the  sea  presented  an  eternal 
change — more  in  one  single  hour  than  the 
lakes  could  show  in  a whole  year.  If  a 
olac.k  cloud  came,  it  was  as  if  the  sea  would 
say,  “ I,  too,  can  look  gloomy and  then 
the  wind  blew,  and  the  waves  turned  theii 
white  sides  outermost ; but  if  the  clouds 
looked  red,  and  the  winds  slept,  then  the 
sea  was  like  a rose-leaf — now  it  was  green, 
now  white  ; but  however  still  it  might  rest, 
there  was  on  the  shore  a gentle  motion,  and 
the  water  heaved  slightly,  like  a sleeping 
infant’s  bosom. 

As  the  sun  was  going  down,  Elise  saw 
eleven  wild  swans,  with  golden  crowns  on 
their  heads,  flying  towards  the  land : they 
flew  one  behind  the  other,  and  looked  like  a 
long  white  pennon.  Then  Elise  climbed  up 
the  hill,  and  hid  herself  behind  some  bushes ; 
the  swans  alighted  close  to  her,  and  fluttered 
their  large  white  wings. 

The  sun  sank  into  the  water,  and  sud- 
denly the  swan -like  forms  disappeared,  aud 
eleven  handsome  Princes,  Elise’s  brothers 

56 


(T'lje  It) i ft  tad. 


stood  before  her.  She  uttered  a loud  cry 
for  although  they  were  greatly  changed, 
Elise  knew — felt  they  were  her  brothers; 
and  she  threw  herself  in  their  arms,  calling 
them  by  name;  and  the  brothers  were  so 
happy  when  they  saw  and  recognised  their 
dear  little  sister,  who  was  now  grown  so  tall 
and  beautiful.  They  laughed  and  wept; 
and  they  had  soon  told  each  other  how  ill 
their  step-mother  had  treated  them  all. 

“ We  fly  aé  wild  swans,”  said  the  eldest 
of  the  brothers,  “ as  long  as  the  sun  is  above 
the  horizon ; but  when  he  has  set  we  ap- 
pear in  our  human  form  again.  We  must, 
therefore,  take  good  heed  at  such  time  to 
have  a resting-place;  for  were  we  flying 
then  in  the  clouds,  we  should  drop  down  as 
men  into  the  deep  below.  This  is  not  our 
dwelling-place : a land  as  beautiful  as  this 
lies  beyond  the  sea ; but  the  way  is  long,— 
we  must  cross  the  vast  ocean,  and  there  is 
no  island  on  our  passage  where  we  could 
pass  the  night:  there  is  but  a small  solitary 
rock  that  rises  out  of  the  waves;  it  is  only 
large  enough  for  us  to  stand  side  by  side 


€jjc  føilli  Itiimtø. 


npon  it,  and  so  to  take  our  rest : if  the  sea 
be  troubled,  then  the  water  dashes  high  over 
our  heads.  But  yet  we  thank  Heaven  foi 
even  this  resting-place:  there  we  pass  the 
night  in  our  human  form  ; and  without  this 
cliff  we  should  never  be  able  to  visit  our  be- 
loved country ; for  it  takes  two  of  the  long- 
est days  of  the  year  to  accomplish  our  flight. 
Once  a year  only  are  we  permitted  to  re- 
visit the  home  of  our  fathers : we  may  stay 
here  eleven  days  ; and  then  we  fly  over  the 
large  forest,  whence  we  can  espy  the  palace 
in  which  our  father  dwells,  and  where  we 
were  born;  whence  we  can  see  the  high 
tower  of  the  church  in  which  our  mother 
lies.  Here  the  very  trees  and  bushes  seem 
familiar  to  us ; here  the  wild  horses  still 
dash  over  the  plains  as  when  we  saw  them 
in  our  childhood ; the  charcoal-burner  sings 
the  same  old  tune  to  which  we  danced  in  our 
youth ; — all  here  has  charms  for  us,  and 
here  we  have  found  thee,  dear  little  sister  ! 
Two  days  more  are  we  permitted  to  stay, 
and  then  we  must  away  over  the  sea  to  a 
pleasant  land;  but,  lovely  as 't  is,  it  is  not 
58 


€\ t IBilit  Inians. 


tfae  country  of  our  birth.  And  thou,  EAso, 
how  can  we  take  thee  with  us — we  have 
neither  ship  nor  boat?’’ 

“ Oh,  how  can  I set  ye  free  1”  said  their 
sister.  And  so  they  spoke  together  nearly 
the  whole  night ; a few  hours  only  were 
given  to  sleep. 

The  next  morning  Elise  was  awakened 
by  the  rustling  of  swans’  wings  rushing  by 
over  her  head.  Her  brothers  were  again 
changed  into  swans,  and  flew  around  in 
large  circles,  and  at  last  they  were  far,  far 
off.  But  one  of  them,  the  youngest,  stayed 
with  her ; he  laid  his  head  on  her  lap,  and 
she  stroked  his  large  white  wings : the 
whole  day  they  stayed  together.  Towards 
evening  the  others  returned  ; and  when  the 
sun  was  gone  down,  there  they  stood  again 
in  their  natural  shapes. 

“ To-morrow,”  said  the  youngest,  “ we 
must  fly  hence,  and  may  not  return  before 
the  end  of  another  year : but  we  cannot 
leave  thee  here.  Hast  thou  courage  to  .fol- 
low us  ? My  arm  is  strong  enough  to  carry 

thee  through  the  wood  : the  wings  of  us  al! 

sn 


tøjl*  IBilii  inmtiB. 


would  surely  then  be  powerful  enough  t« 
bear  thee  over  the  sea.” 

“Yes,  take  me  with  you,”  said  Elise. 
And  they  spent  the  whole  night  in  weaving 
a sort  of  mat  of  the  flexible  bark  of  the  wil- 
low and  of  tough  bull-rushes ; and  when 
finished  it  was  large  and  strong.  Elise  laid 
herself  upon  it ; and  when  the  sun  appeared, 
and  her  brothers  were  again  changed  into 
wild  swans,  they  took  the  mat  in  their  bills, 
and  flew  with  their  dear  sister,  who  still 
slept,  high  up  into  the  clouds.  The  rays  of 
the  sun  fell  full  upon  her  face  ; so  one  of  the 
swans  flew  above  her  head,  that  he  might 
overshadow  her  with  his  broad  wings. 

They  were  far  distant  from  land  when 
Elise  awoke.  She  thought  she  must  be  in 
a dream,  so  strange  did  it  seem  to  her  to  be 
borne  thus  through  the  air  high  above  the 
ocean.  Beside  her  lay  a branch  with  ripe 
juicy  berries,  and  a bundle  of  palatable 
roots;  these  her  youngest  brother  had  ga- 
thered and  placed  near  her  ; and  she  looked 
up  to  him  with  a smile  of  gratitude;  for 
she  recognised  him  in  the  swan  that  flew 
60 


ty i røifo  ftnans. 

above  her  head  and  shaded  her  with  his 
wings.  • 

They  flew  so  high,  that  the  first  ship  they 
saw  below  them  seemed  like  a white  sea- 
mew  hovering  over  the  waves.  Elise  be 
held  a large  cloud  behind  them:  it  was  a 
mountain,  and  on  it  she  saw  in  gigantic, 
proportions  the  shadows  of  herself  and  of 
the  eleven  swans.  It  was  a picture  more 
magnificent  than  eye  had  ever  gazed  on ; 
but  as  the  sun  rose  higher  and  the  cloud  was 
left  behind,  the  shadowy  picture  vanished. 
The  whole  day  they  flew  on  like  a whizzing 
arrow;  but  yet  it  was  more  slowly  than 
usual, ’for  they  had  their  sister  to  carry. 
The  sky  looked  threatening;  the  evening 
was  closing  in ; and  Elise,  full  of  anxiety, 
saw  the  sun  sinking  down  ; but  the  solitary 
rock  was  not  to  bo  discerned.  She  fancied 
by  the  beating  of  their  wings  that  the  swans 
were  exerting  themselves  very  much.  Alas, 
it  was  her  fault  that  her  brothers  could  not 
advance  more  quickly  ! Should  the  sun  set, 
then  they  would  be  men,— they  would  fall 

into  tho  sea  and  be  drowned.  From  hei 

si 


€jl?  rølh  tam 


very  inmost  heart  did  she  pray  to  God ; out 
as  yet  no  rsck  was  to  be  seen : the  black 
cloud  drew  nearer ; the  violent  gusts  of  wind 
announced  a storm ; the  clouds  stood  up- 
reared  on  a frightfully  large  wave,  that 
rolled  onwards  with  the  speed  of  the  hurri- 
cane ; and  it  lightened,  one  flash  quickly 
following  the  other. 

The  sun  was  now  on  the  very  margin  of 
the  sea.  Elise’ s heart  beat  violently  ; when 
suddenly  the  swans  darted  downwards  so 
rapidly  that  she  thought  she  was  falling; 
but  now  again  she  floated  in  the  air.  The 
sun  was  half  in  the  water  when  she  per- 
ceived for  the  first  time  the  small  rock  be- 
low her,  which  to  her  eyes  did  not  appear 
larger  than  the  head  of  a seal  when  the 
creature  holds  it  out  of  the  water.  And  the 
sun  went  down  so  fast : already  it  was  only 
like  a star  ; when  at  the  same  moment  her 
foot  touched  the  firm  ground,  and  the  sun 
vanished  like  the  last  spark  of  a piece  of 
burning  paper.  She  saw  her  brothers  stand- 
ing round  her  arm-in-arm ; but  there  was 
not  more  room  than  just  enough  for  them 
62 


€jjr  BJilh  luiflua. 


and  for  her.  The  sea  dashed  boisterously 
against  the  rock,  and  fell  on  them  like  * 
heavy  shower  of  rain  ; the  sky  was  one  con- 
tinual blaze  of  fire,  and  the  thunder  rolled 
uninterruptedly  ; but  the  brothers  and  their 
sister  held  each  other  by  the  hand  and  sang 
a psalm,  and  it  gave  them  consolation  and 
strength. 

At  daybreak  the  air  was  clear  and  still ; 
and  as  soon  as  the  sun  rose  the  swans  flew 
away  from  the  island  with  Elise.  There 
was  yet  a high  sea;  and  when  they  were 
up  in  the  clouds,  and  looked  down  on  the 
blackish-green  ocean  full  of  white  foam,  it 
seemed  as  if  a million  swans  were  skimming 
over  the  water. 

As  the  sun  rose  higher,  Elise  saw  before 
her,  half  swimming  as  it  were  in  the  air,  a 
mountainous  country  with  glittering  gla- 
ciers ; and  amid  them  stood  a palace,  miles 
long,  with  one  bold  colonnade  rising  over 
the  other,  and  surrounded  with  palm-groves 
and  beautiful  llowcrs,  each  as  large  as  a 
mill-wheel.  She  asked  if  that  was  the  land 
to  which  they  were  llyir  g : but  the  swam 

63 


iBilii  manus. 


Bhook  their  heads;  for  what  she  saw  was 
the  glorious  and  ever-changing  cloud-palace 
of  the  Fata  Morgana,* — thither  they  dare 
bring  no  one ; and  while  Elise’ s gaze  was 
still  fixed  upon  it,  mountains,  groves,  and 
palace  all  tumbled  down  together,  and 
twelve  proud  churches  stood  in  their  place, 
all  like  each  other,  with  high  towers  and 
pointed  windows.  She  thought  she  could 
hear  the  organ  pealing  ; but  what  she  heard 
was  merely  the  roar  of  the  sea.  She  was 
now  quite  near  the  churches,  when  sudden- 
ly they  were  changed  into  a fleet  that  sailed 
below.  She  looked  down,  but  there  was 
only  the  haze  of  the  sea  driving  along  over 
the  water.  There  was  a continual  change 
before  her  eyes;  but  at  last  she  leally  saw 
the  land  she  was  to  go  to.  There  beautiful 
blue  mountains  lifted  themselves  on  high, 
with  for'sts  of  cedars,  and  towers,  and 
palaces.  >ong  before  sunset  she  was  sitting 
on  a hill  before  a large  cavern,  which  was 

• Mirage.  An  optical  illusion,  presenting  an  image 
#f  objects  on  the  earth  or  sea  as  if  elevated  into  th* 

air. 


64 


€tjp  Wilil  liming. 


BO  thickly  covered  by  green  creeping-plants, 
that  it  looked  as  if  overspread  with  crnbroi-^ 
dered  hangings. 

“ Let  ns  see,  now,  what  you  dream  to- 
night !”  said  the  youngest  brother,  as  he 
showed  her  the  chamber  where  she  was  to 


sleep. 

“ Would  that  I might  dream  how  I could 
disenchant  you !”  said  she.  And  this 
thought  possessed  her  entirely  ; she  prayed 
heartily  to  God  for  aid,  and  even  in  her 
dreams  continued  her  prayer.  Then  it 
seemed  to  her  as  if  she  were  flying  high 
through  the  air  to  the  cloud-palace  of  tho 
Fata  Morgana ; and  the  Fairy  advanced  to 
meet  her  in  light  and  loveliness ; and  yet, 
after  all,  it  was  the  old  woman  who  had 
given  her  berries  in  the  wood,  and  told  her 
of  the  swans  with  golden  crowns  on  their 


heads. 

“Thy  brothers  may  be  released,”  said 
the  Fairy;  “but  hast  thou  patience  and 
fortitude  1 ’Tis  true  the  sea  is  softer  than 
thy  delicate  hands,  and  yet  it  changes  the 
form  af  the  hard  stones ; but  it  feels  not  the 


s 


66 


V 


føxlil  Imiras. 


pain  which  your  tender  fingers  would  suf' 
fer.  It  has  no  heart,  and  suffereth  not  the 
anguish  and  suspense  which  thou  wouldst 
have  to  endure.  Dost  thou  see  these  nettles 
in  my  hand  ? Many  such  grow  around  the 
cave  where  thou  sleepest;  these  only,  and 
such  as  shoot  up  out  of  the  graves  in  the 
churchyard,  are  of  use ; and  mark  this — 
thou  must  gather  them  although  they  sting 
thy  hands ; thou  must  brake*  the  nettles 
with  thy  feet,  and  then  thou  wilt  have  yarn ; 
and  of  this  yarn,  with  weaving  and  winding, 
thou  must  make  eleven  shirts  of  mail  with 
long  sleeves ; and  if  thou  wilt  throw  these 
over  the  eleven  wild  swans,  then  the  en- 
chantment will  be  at  an  end.  But  remember, 
from  the  moment  thou  beginnest  thy  work 
until  its  completion,  even  should  years  pass 
by  meanwhile,  thou  must  not  utter  a single 
word : the  first  sound  of  thy  lips  will  pass 
like  a fatal  dagger  through  thy  brothers’ 
hearts — on  thy  tongue  depends  their  life. 
Mark  well  ad  that  I say  !” 

• A brake  is  an  instrument  for  dressing  flax. 

66 


Æljr  ISiflP  f timus. 


And  at  the  same  moment  the  Fairy  touch- 
ed Elise’s  hand  with  the  nettle:  it  was  like 
burning  fire;  and  it  awoke  her.  It  was 
bright  day ; and  close  beside  her  bed  lay  a 
nettle  like  that  she  had  seen  in  her  dream. 
Then  she  fell  on  her  knees,  thanked  God, 
and  went  out  of  the  cavern  to  begin  her 
work. 

With  her  delicate  hands  she  seized  the 
horrid  nettles  that  burned  like  fire.  Her 
hands  and  arms  were  blistered;  but  she 
minded  it  not,  could  her  dear  brothers  bo 
but  freed.  She  trampled  on  each  nettle 
with  her  naked  feet,  and  twisted  the  green 
flax. 

At  sunset  her  brothers  returned:  they 
were  sadly  frightened  at  Elise  s dumbness, 
and  thought  it  was  a new  enchantment  un- 
der which  she  was  laid  by  their  wicked 
step-mother ; but  when  they  saw  her  blis- 
tered hands,  they  knew  what  their  sister 
was  doing  for  their  sakes,  and  the  youngest 
brother  wept;  and  whenever  his  tears  fell 
Elise  felt  no  pain— the  burning  smart  ceased 
immediately. 


67 


€!i£  føllh  $tnnns. 


The  whole  night  she  was  occ  lpled  with 
her  work  ; for  she  could  not  rest  till  she  had 
freed  her  dear  brothers.  All  the  following 
day  she  sat  in  solitude,  while  the  swans 
were  flying  afar ; but  never  did  time  seem 
to  pass  so  quickly.  One  shirt  of  mail  was 
finished ; and  now  she  begun  the  second. 

Suddenly  the  horn  of  a,  hunter  was  heard 
among  the  mountains.  She  grew  frightened 
— the  sound  came  nearer — she  heard  the 
bark  of  the  dogs.  Full  of  apprehension,  she 
flew  into  the  cavern,  tied  the  nettles  which 
she  had  gathered  and  hackled  into  a bundle, 
and  seated  herself  upon  it. 

At  the  same  moment  a large  dog  sprang 
forward  out  of  the  bushes,  and  immediately 
after  another  and  another : they  barked 
loudly,  then  ran  back  and  came  again.  It 
was  not  long  before  the  hunters  themselves 
stood  in  front  of  the  cave,  and  the  hand- 
somest of  them  all  was  the  King  of  the 
country.  He  advanced  towards  Elise ; a 
maiden  more  beautiful  than  she  had  he 
never  beheld. 

“ Whence  comest  thou,  lovely  child1? 

68 


€1| t røitø  åtnana. 


■aid  he.  Elise  shook  her  head;  she  da  red 
aot  speak,  for  the  deliverance  and  the  life 
of  her  brothers  depended  on  her  silence 
She  hid  her  hands  underneath  her  apron, 
that  the  King  might  not  see  what  she  was 
obliged  to  suffer. 

“Come  with  me,”  said  he;  “ thou  must 
not  stay  here.  If  thou  art  as  good  as  thou 
art  beautiful,  I will  clothe  thee  in  <fllk  and 
velvet,  I will  put  a golden  crown  upon  thy 
head,  and  thou  shalt  dwell  in  my  palaco 
with  me.”  So  saying,  he  lifted  her  on  his 
horse.  She  wept  and  wrung  her  hands; 
but  the  King  said,  “ I only  seek  thy  happi- 
ness ! one  day  thou  wilt  be  thankful  to  me  !” 
And  he  galloped  away  over  hill  and  valley, 
holding  her  fast  before  him ; and  the  hunts- 
men followed  at  full  speed. 

As  the  sun  was  going  down,  she  saw  be- 
fore her  the  magnificent  capital,  with  its 
churches  and  domes ; and  the  King  led  her 
to  the  palace,  where  jets  of  water  were 
splashing  on  the  high  marble  walls ; where 
wall  and  ceiling  shone  with  the  richest 
paintings ; but  all  this  delighted  not  her 

69 


€j}f  Wilh  itoana. 


eyes ; she  mourned  ard  wept,  and  in  silence 
suffered  the  women  to  array  her  in  royal 
robes ; to  braid  her  hair  with  pearls,  and  to 
put  soft  gloves  on  her  burned  hands. 

At  last  there  she  stood  in  all  her  glory, 
and  was  so  dazzlingly  beautiful  that  the 
whole  court  bowed  before  her ; and  the  King 
chose  her  as  his  betrothed;  although  the 
archbishop  shook  his  head,  and  whispered 
to  the  King  that  the  lovely  forest  maiden 
must  certainly  be  a witch,  who  had  intoxi- 
cated his  heart  and  dazzled  his  eye  by  her 
beauty. 

But  the  King  gave  no  heed  to  his  words  : 
he  ordered  the  music  to  sound,  and  the  rich- 
est meats  were  served,  and  the  loveliest  girls 
danced  before  her,  and  she  was  led  through 
odorous  gardens  to  the  most  magnificent 
halls.  But  no  smile  played  on  her  lip,  nor 
in  her  eye  : affliction  only  was  hers ; it  was 
her  sole  possession.  Then  the  King  opened 
a small  chamber  adjoining  her  sleeping- 
ioom  : it  was  covered  with  costly  green  car- 
peting, and  resembled  exactly  the  cavern  in 
which  she  had  former  y been.  On  the  floor 

70 


€\p  litmus. 


lay  a bundle  of  flax,  which  6ho  ha  1 spun 
from  the  fibres  of  the  nettles  ; and  from  the 
ceiling  hung  the  shirt  of  mail  which  she  had 
completed.  All  this  had  been  collected  and 
brought  hither  by  one  of  the  hunters  as  a 
curiosity. 

“ Here  thou  canst  dream  that  thou  art  in 
thy  former  home,”  said  the  King.  “ Here 
is  the  work  which  occupied  thee  there.  Now 
amid  all  thy  splendor  it  will  delight  thee  to 
live  in  fancy  that  time  over  again.” 

When  Elise  saw  what  was  so  dear  to  her 
heart,  a smile  played  about  her  mouth,  and 
the  blood  came  back  again  to  her  cheeks. 
She  thought  of  the  deliverance  of  her  bro- 
thers, and  kissed  the  King’s  hand.  He 
pressed  her  to  his  heart,  and  ordered  that  all 
the  church-bells  should  announce  the  wed- 
ding-festival. The  beautiful  forest  maiden 
became  Queen  of  the  country. 

Then  the  archbishop  whispered  words  of 
evil  import  in  the  King’s  car;  but  they  did 
not  sink  deep  in  his  heart.  The  marriage 
was  celebrated ; the  archbishop  even  was 
•bliged  to  set  the  crown  on  her  head  ; and  in 

71 


■'»fflre  føillt  lumnø. 


his  wicked  rage  he  pressed  the  narrow  cir- 
clet of  gold  so  hard  upon  her  forehead,  that 
it  pained  her;  but  a heavier  weight,  grief 
for  her  brothers,  lay  on  her  heart ; so  that 
she  felt  not  the  bodily  smart.  She  spoke 
not ; for  a single  word  would  have  caused 
her  brothers’  death;  but  in  her  eyes  was  an 
expression  of  deep  love  for  the  good  and 
handsome  King,  who  did  every  thing  to 
make  her  happy.  With  her  whole  heart 
she  grew  every  day  more  attached  to  him  : 
oh  ! had  she  but  dared  to  confide  to  him  her 
sorrows,  and  tell  him  all  she  felt ! But  dumb 
she  must  remain ; in  silence  must  she  ac- 
complish her  task.  And  so  at  night  she 
slipped  away,  went  into  the  small  room 
which  was  decked  like  the  cavern,  and  wove 
one  shirt  of  mail  after  the  other ; but  when 
she  began  the  seventh,  behold,  the  flax  was 
all  gone ! 

She  well  knew  that  such  nettles  as  she 
muld  use  grew  in  the  churchyard;  but  then 
die  herself  must  gather  them,  and  how  was 
?he  to  get  out  to  do  so? 

“ Oh,  what’s  the  smarting  of  my  fingers 

75 


IBilil  burnus. 


compared  to  the  anguish  that  my  heart  en- 
dures?” thought  she:  “venture  I must, 
.and  God  will  surely  not  withdraw  His  hand 
from  me.” 

Trembling  as  though  she  were  going  to 
commit  a wicked  action,  she  one  moonlight 
night  crept  down  into  the  garden,  and  went 
through  the  long  avenues,  and  on  the  soli- 
tary road  to  the  churchyard.  There  she 
saw  on  one  of  the  broadest  gravestones  a 
troop  of  Lamias  sitting — ugly  witches,  who 
took  off  their  ragged  covering  as  though  they 
were  going  to  bathe,  and  then  dug  with  their 
long  thin  fingers  amid  the  fresh  grass,  and 
drew  forth  the  dead  bodies,  and  devoured 
the  flesh.  Elise  was  forced  to  pass  near 
them ; and  the  witches  fixed  upon  her  their 
malicious  eyes ; but  she  said  a prayer,  ga- 
thered the  stinging-nettles,  and  carried  them 
home  to  the  palace. 

Only  a single  person  had  seen  her:  it  waa 
the  archbishop.  1 le  watched  while  the  others 
slept  Now  he  was  sure  he  was  right  when 
he  said  the  Queen  was  not  what  she  should 
bo : that  she  was  a witch ; and  that  ths 

73 


o 


»nå. 


King  and  the  people  were  beguied  by  hei 
enchantments. 

When  the  King  went  to  confess,  the  arch- 
bishop told  him  what  he  had  seen,  and  what 
he  feared  ; and  as  these  wicked  words  pass- 
ed his  lips,  the  carved  figures  of  saints 
around  the  confessional  shook  their  heads, 
as  though  they  would  say,  “ It  is  not  true ! 
Elise  is  innocent !”  But  the  archbishop  ex- 
plained it  otherwise  ; he  said  it  was  a sign 
of  her  guilt,  and  that  the  figures  shook  their 
heads  at  her  sins. 

Then  two  large  tears  rolled  down  the 
cheeks  of  the  King ; and  it  was  with  a 
heavy  heart  that  he  went  home.  In  the 
night  he  pretended  to  be  asleep;  but  no 
sleep  came  to  his  eyes;  and  he  observed 
that  Elise  rose  every  night ; and  each  time 
he  followed  her  softly,  and  saw  how  she 
disappeared  in  her  little  room. 

Each  day  the  countenance  of  the  King 
grew  darker.  Elise  saw  it,  and  knew  not 
the  cause ; but  it  made  her  uneasy : and 
what  did  her  heart  not  suffer  on  her  bro- 
thel s’  account ! Her  bitter  tears  rolled 
74 


Clj?  røitø  Imam 


down  on  the  royal  velvet  and  purple,  and 
tay  there  like  sparkling  diamonds  ; and  all 
who  saw  the  splendor  and  magnificence 
with  which  she  was  surrounded,  wished 
themselves  in  Elise’s  place. 

In  the  meantime,  however,  her  work  was 
nearly  completed  ; one  shirt  of  mail  only  was 
wanting,  but  her  flax  was  exhausted : she 
had  not  a single  nettle  more.  Once  more, 
only  once,  would  she  be  obliged  to  go  to  the 
churchyard  and  pluck  a handful.  She 
thought  with  terror  of  the  lonely  walk,  and 
of  the  horrible  Lamias  ; but  her  resolve  was 
as  firm  as  her  trust  in  God. 

Elise  went ; but  the  King  and  the  arch- 
bishop followed  her.  They  saw  her  vanish 
at  the  churchyard  gate  ; and,  on  approach- 
ing nearer,  they  saw  the  Lamias  sitting  on 
a grave-stor.e,  as  Elise  had  seen  them ; and 
the  King  turned  away  at  the  sight ; for  he 
thought  that  she,  whose  head  had  that 
evening  rested  on  his  bosom,  was  one  of 
them. 

• “ She  shall  be  judged  by  the  people !” 
said  he,  with  a faltering  voice.  And  the 

75 


Clip  ftnlil  mm. 


sentence  of  the  people  was — “ That  she 
should  be  burnt  alive  !” 

From  the  magnificent  royal  hall  she  was 
now  led  to  a dismal  damp  cell,  where  the 
wind  whistled  through  the  gratéd  window. 
Instead  of  velvet  and  silk,  they  gave  her  the 
bundle  of  nettles  which  she  had  collected  in 
the  churchyard,  tied  together  with  a thick 
piece  of  rope.  “ These,”  they  said,  “ she 
might  lay  under  her  head  as  a pillow  and 
the  coarse  hard  shirts  of  mail  were  to  serve 
her  as  bed  and  covering  : but  nothing  could 
have  delighted  her  more ; and  she  set  to 
work  again,  and  prayed  fervently  to  God. 
Before  her  prison-door  the  populace  sang 
jeering  songs  about  her  : not  a soul  comforted 
her  with  one  word  of  affection. 

All  at  once,  towards  evening,  she  heard 
the  rustling  of  swans’  wings  close  to  hei 
window.  It  was  her  youngest  brother,  who 
had  found  his  sister ; and  she  sobbed  aloud 
for  joy,  although  she  knew  that  the  coming 
night  would  perhaps  be  the  last  of  her  life. 
But  then  the  work  was  nearly  done  and  het 
brothers  were  at  hand. 

76 


€\t  IBilti  tatu. 

Tlie  archbishop  came  to  pass  the  last 
hour  with  her,  for  he  had  promised  the  King 
to  do  so;  but  she  shook  her  head,  and 
begged  him,  by  look  and  gesture,  to  leave 
her.  This  night  her  task  must  be  accom- 
plished, or  all  would  have  been  in  vain ; 
all  her  tears,  her  sorroAvs,  her  silence,  and 
her  many  sleepless  nights.  The  archbishop 
went  away  Avith  angry  Avords  upon  his  lips  ; 
but  poor  Ense  KneAv  she  had  done  nothing 
wrong,  and  continued  her  Avork. 

The  little  mice  ran  busily  backAvards  and 
forwards  about  the  dungeon,  and  dragged 
the  nettles  to  her  feet,  in  order  to  help  her 
a little ; and  the  thrush  sat  on  the  grating 
of  her  AvindoAV,  and  sang  the  Avhole  night 
as  merrily  as  he  could,  that  Elise  might  not 
be  disheartened. 

It  began  to  daAvn ; it  Avas  still  an  hour 
before  the  sun  Avould  rise  and  shine  in  all 
his  summer  splendor,  Avhen  the  eleven  bro- 
thers stood  before  the  palace-gates,  and 
asked  to  be  led  into  the  presence  of  the  King. 
They  were  told  it  could  not  be,  for  it  was 
still  night;  besides,  the  King  was  asleep, 
and  no  one  dared  to  Avake  him.  They  en- 

TT 


Mil  tan. 

treated,  they  threatened;  the  guard  came, 
and  at  last  even  the  King  appeared,  and 
asked  what  was  the  matter ; when  just  at 
that  moment  the  sun  rose,  and  there  were 
no  longer  any  brothers  to  be  found : there 
were  only  eleven  white  swans  to  be  seen  fly- 
ing away  over  the  palace. 

The  people  streamed  out  of  the  city-gates ; 
for  all  wished  to  see  the  witch  burnt.  A 
miserable  horse  dragged  the  cart  on  which 
she  sat : they  had  dressed  her  in  a sort  of 
frock  of  coarse  sackcloth  ; her  beautiful  long 
hair  hung  loose  around  her  head ; her  cheeks 
were  deathly  pale ; her  lips  moved  almost 
imperceptibly  while  she  spun  the  green-flax ; 
for  even  on  the  way  to  death  she  ceased  not 
from  the  work  she  had  begun.  The  ten 
shirts  of  mail  lay  at  her  feet ; she  was  weav- 
ing the  eleventh. 

The  people  cruelly  laughed  at  her  all  this 
time.  “ Look  at  the  witch!”  shouted  they ; 
“ how  she  is  muttering  ! She  has  no  book 
of  psalms  in  her  hand ; no5  there  she  sits 
with  her  accursed  conjuration : take  it  from 
her ! let  us  tear  the  witch  stuff  in  a thou- 
sand pieces !” 

78 


'<%  itfilti  åmnna. 


So  saying,  they  all  rushed  to  ward  i her, 
intending  to  rob  her  of  her  treasure  and  de- 
stroy the  shirts  of  mail ; when  suddenly 
eleven  white  swans  were  seen.  They  flew 
to  Elise,  formed  a circle  round  her,  and  beat 
the  air  with  their  wings.  The  frightened 
crowd  gave  way. 

“ ’Tis  a sign  from  heaven  ! she  is  surely 
innocent!”  whispered  some ; but  they  dared 
not  say  it  aloud. 

The  executioner  seized  her  hand;  when 
quickly  she  threw  the  eleven  shirts  of  mail 
over  the  swans,  and  eleven  handsome  princes 
stood  before  her;  but  the  youngest  had  one 
swans’  wing  instead  of  an  arm,  for  a sleeve 
was  wanting  on  his  shirt  of  mail ; since  his 
good  sister  Elise,  with  all  her  zeal,  une- 
qualled as  it  was,  had  not  been  quite  able  to 
finish  it.  And  the  populace,  that  had  seen 
what  had  happened,  bowed  before  her  as 
before  a saint ; but  she  sank  insensible  in  the 
arms  of  her  brothers,  overcome  by  suspense, 
pain,  and  sorrow. 

“ Yes,  she  is  innocent !”  said  the  eldest 
orothei  ; and  he  related  all  that  had  befallen 
her.  While  he  spake,  an  odor  as  of  a million 

79 


tøjl*  IBilil  ittrnnø. 


roses  spread  around  ; for  each  billet  of  wood 
in  the  pile  had  taken  root,  and  put  forth 
branches  and  blossoms ; so  that  instead  of 
the  horrid  flames  which  were  expected,  there 
was  now  a sweetly  smelling  hedge  full  of 
red  roses  : and  on  the  top  of  all  was  a flow- 
er of  dazzling  whiteness,  and  shining  like  a 
star.  The  King  plucked  this  flower,  and 
'.aid  it  on  Elise’s  bosom ; and  she  awoke 
with  joy  and  peace  in  her  heait. 

Then  all  the  church-bells  began  ringing 
jf  their  own  accord,  and  the  birds  came  in 
few  aims ; and  the  procession  to  the  palace 
was  such  as  no  King  had  ever  seen  before. 


^llt  31  u g ti- 


S soor  aa 
a good  l't- 
tlc  chiii 
dies,  oni 
of  God’s 
angels  de- 
scends tc 
the  earth, 

takes  the  dead  child  in  his  arms,  spreads  out 
his  large  white  wings,  and  flies  over  all  the 
places  that  were  dear  to  the  little  one  when 

was  alive;  and  cn  the  way  he  gathers  a 

. «i 


€l)t  5lagtl 

aandful  of  flowers,  which  he  then  carries  to 
Heaven,  in  order  that  they  may  bloom  still 
more  beautifully  there  than  they  did  here  on 
Earth.  The  loving  God  presseth  all  these 
flowers  to  His  bosom ; but  the  flower  that 
He  loveth  best  He  kisseth ; and  then  it  re- 
ceives a sweet  clear  voice,  so  that  it  can  sing 
and  rejoice  with  the  happy  hosts  around. 

An  Angel  of  God  related  this  as  he  bore  a 
dead  Child  to  Heaven  ; and  the  Child  heard 
as  in  a dream ; and  they  flew  over  all  the 
spots  around  the  home  where  the  little  one 
had  played  in  its  lifetime,  and  they  passed 
through  gardens  with  the  loveliest  flowers. 
“ Which  flower  shall  we  take  with  us  and 
plant  afresh  in  Heaven  ?”  asked  the  Angel. 

And  a beautiful  slender  rose-tree  was 
standing  there ; but  a rude  hand  had  wan- 
tonly broken  the  stem,  so  that  all  the  branch- 
es, that  a short  time  before  were  so  fair  and 
green,  and  which  were  full  of  large  half- 
open rose-buds,  now  hung  down  quite 
withered  and  sad,  upon  the  soft,  smooth 
carpet  of  turf. 

“ The  poor  tree  !”  said  the  Child;  “ take 
82 


■tøjl*  flngfl. 

it,  sc  that  it  may  bloom  again  on  high  with 
the  loving  God.’: 

And  the  Angel  took  it,  and  kissed  the 
Child;  and  the  little  one  half-opened  his 
eyes.  They  gathered  some  of  the  superb 
flowers ; out  they  took  the  despised  daisy 
and  the  wild  pansy,  too. 

“ Now  we  have  flowers,”  said  the  Child, 
and  the  Angel  nodded,  as  if  to  say,  “yes;” 
but  they  did  not  yet  fly  up  to  Heaven. 

It  was  night:  it  was  quite  still.  They 
stayed  a while  in  the  great  city,  near  which 
the  child  had  lived,  they  floated  to  and  fro 
in  one  of  the  narrowest  streets,  where  great 
heaps  of  straw,  of  ashes  and  rubbish,  lay 
about:  there  had  been  a removal.  The 
streets  looked  disordered  and  dirty.  There 
lay  broken  pots  and  plates,  plaster  figures, 
rags,  the  crowns  of  old  hats ; nothing  but 
things  that  were  displeasing  to  the  sight. 

And  amidst  the  devastation  the  Angel 
pointed  to  the  fragments  of  a flower- pot,  and 
to  a clod  of  earth  that  had  fallen  out  of  it, 
and  which  was  only  held  together  by  the 
roots  of  a great  withered  wild  flower;  but 

83 


C l/r  5tngpl. 


it  was  good  f jr  nothing  now,  and  was  there* 
fore  thrown  out  into  the  street. 

“ We  will  take  that  one  with  us,”  said 
the  Angel,  “and  I will  tell  you  about  r 
while  we  are  flying.” 

And  now  they  flew  on ; and  the  Angel 
related : 

“ Down  yonder,  in  the  narrow  street,  in 
the  low  cellar,  lived  once  a poor  sickly  boy. 
He  had  been  bedridden  from  his  very  in- 
fancy, for  an  incurable  disease  had  seized 
upon  his  tender  frame.  When  he  was  very 
well  indeed,  he  could  just  go  a few  times  up 
and  down  the  little  room  on  his  crutches ; 
that  was  all.  Some  days  in  summer  the 
sunbeams  fell  for  half  an  hour  on  the  little 
cellar- window  ; and  then,  when  the  boy  sat 
there,  and  let  the  warm  sun  shine  upon  him, 
and  saw  the  red  blood  through  his  small 
thin  fingers,  then  it  was  said,  ‘Yes,  he  has 
been  out  to-day.’  All  he  knew  of  the  won- 
diously  beautiful  spring-time,  the  green  and 
beauty  of  the  woods,  Avas  from  the  first 
bough  of  a beech-tree  that  a neighbor’s  son 
once  brought  him  as  a May-day  token  ; and 
84 


he  held  it  over  his  head,  and  dreamed  h» 
was  under  the  green  shelter  of  the  beech- 
trees,  where  the  sun  shone  and  the  birds 
were  singing  around  him. 

“ One  day  in  spring  his  neighbor’s  soi. 
brought  him  some  wild  flowers  also,  and 
among  them  was  by  chance  one  with  a root ; 
it  was  therefore  planted  in  a flower-pot  and 
placed  in  the  window  close  by  his  bedside. 
And  a fortunate  hand  had  planted  the  flow- 
er ; it  thrived,  put  forth  new  shoots,  and 
every  year  it  bore  sweet-smelling  flowers. 
To  the  eyes  of  the  sick  boy  it  became  the 
the  most  beautiful  garden — his  little  treasure 
upon  earn: : he  watered  and  tended  it,  and 
took  care  that  it  got  every  sunbeam,  to  the 
very  last  that  glided  by  on  the  lowest  pane. 
And  the  flower  grew  up  in  his  very  dreams, 
with  its  colors  and  its  fragrance;  it  was 
overlooked  by  others,  and  for  him  alone  it 
bloomed  and  smelt  so  sweetly : to  it  he  turn- 
ed in  dying,  when  the  loving  God  called 
him  to  H'mself.  He  has  now  been  a yeai 
with  God — a year  has  the  flower  stood  in 
the  window  withered  and  forgotten,  and 


tøjl*  Slngtl. 


now,  at  the  removal,  it  lias  been  thrown 
among  the  rubbish  into  the  street.  And 
that  is  the  flower,  the  same  poor  faded  flow- 
er, which  we  have  taken  into  our  garland ; 
for  this  flower  has  caused  more  joy  than  the 
rarest  flower  in  the  garden  of  a queen.” 

“ But  how  do  you  know  all  this?”  asked 
the  Child  whom  the  Angel  was  carrying  up 
to  Heaven. 

“ I know  it,”  said  the  Angel : “I  was 
myself  the  little  sick  boy  that  went  on 
crutches ; I must  surely  know  my  own 
flower  again.” 

And  the  Child  opened  his  eyes  and  looked 
in  the  beautiful  calm  face  of  the  Angel ; and 
at  the  same  moment  they  were  in  Heaven, 
where  was  only  joy  and  blessedness. 

And  God  pressed  the  dead  Child  to  His 
bosom:  thereon  it  became  winged  like  the 
other  Angel,  and  flew  hand  in  hand  with 
him  ; and  God  pressed  all  the  flowers  to  His 
bosom,  but  the  poor  withered  flower  He 
kissed ; and  a voice  was  given  to  it,  and  it 
sang  a song  of  triumph  with  all  the  angels 
that  moved  around  God  in  Heaven,  soma 
86 


r-- 

<Kljr  51  ngtl. 

sweeping  on  their  bright  wings  quite  near  to 
him,  others  round  these  in  larger  circles,  al- 
ways further  away  in.  immensity,  but  all 
qually  blessed. 

And  they  all  sang,  great  and  small ; the 
good,  innocent  little  child,  who  once  limped 
about  on  his  toilsome  crutches,  and  the  pool 
field-flower  that  had  lain  withered  among 
the  sweapinsjs  in  the  narrow,  dingy  street. 


87 


t /tllntB-^rntitUr. 


OOR  Johnny  was  ve 
ry  melancholy ; for 
his  father  lay  griev- 
ously ill,  and  could 
not  hope  to  live.  He 
was  quite  alone  with  the  sick 


the  dying 
68 


man  in  his  small  chamber  ; the 
lamp  burned  faintly,  and  gave 
but  a glimmering  light,  and  the 
evening  was  already  far  ad- 
vanced. 

“You  have  always  been  a 
good  son  to  me,  Johnny,”  said 
father  “and  God  will  therefore 


€I;e  /flloui-tarelir. 


certainly  help  you  through  the  world!” 
He  cast  a tender  look  upon  his  son,  heaved 
a deep  sigh,  and  died.  There  he  lay  as 
though  he  were  asleep.  But  Johnny  wept ; 
for  now  he  had  not  a friend  in  the  whole 
world — neither  father  nor  mother,  brothel 
nor  sister.  Poor  John  ! he  knelt  beside  the 
bed,  kissed  his  dead  father’s  hands,  and 
wept  bitterly ; but  at  last  he  fell  asleep,  and 
his  wearied  head  sank  on  the  hard  bedstead. 

Then  he  dreamed  that  he  saw  the  sun 
and  the  moon  bowing  before  him,  and  his 
father  recovered,  and  laughing  merrily : and 
he  laughed  just  as  he  did  when  he  was  alive. 
A lovely  maiden,  wearing  a golden  crown 
in  her  long  and  beautiful  hair,  stretched  out 
her  hand  to  him  ; and  his  father  said,  “ Look 
at  her,  the  most  lovely  maiden  in  the  Avorld, 
who  one  day  will  be  thy  wife  !”  and  then 
he  awoke.  The  vision  he  had  beheld  in  his 
dream  had  vanished  ; his  father  lay  dead 
and  cold  on  the  bed,  and  he  was  alone. 
Poor  John  ! 

The  next  week  was  the  funeral.  John 
followed  close  behind  the  coffin,  and  wept 


€!j e /tllnui-^ranBler. 


again  most  bitterly  ; for  he  would  never  see 
his  good  father  more — he  who  had  thought 
so  much  of  him  ! He  heard  the  earth  fali 
upon  the  coffin,  he  still  saw  the  last  comer 
of  it ; hut  with  the  next  shovelful  of  earth 
even  that  was  no  longer  visible.  Then  it 
seemed  to  him  as  though  his  heart  would 
break,  so  very  wretched  did  he  feel.  Yet 
he  felt  some  consolation  from  the  singing  of 
the  children  round  the  grave ; his  tears 
flowed  and  relieved  his  heavy  grief.  The 
sun  shone  with  a friendly  look  upon  the 
green  trees,  as  though  it  would  say,  “ Be 
not  so  sorrowful,  John ! Seest  thou  not  how 
blue  and  beautiful  the  heaven  is  1 Thy 
father  is  there  now,  and  implores  a merciful 
God  to  take  thee  under  his  protection,  that 
thou  mayest  be  happy  !” 

“I  will  always  behave  well,”  thought 
John,  “ and  then  one  day  I shall  go  to  hea- 
ven to  my  father.  Oh,  how  shall  we  re- 
joice when  we  see  each  other  again  ! And 
he  will  again  show  me  many  things,  and 
teach  me  what  is  heavenly  felicity,  as  h* 
so 


tøj \)t  /ellmn-taiEltr. 


did  when  here  on  earth.  Oh.  how  hapy  y 
shah  I be !” 

John  pictnred  this  heavenly  meeting  so 
vividly  to  himself,  that  he  smiled  through 
his  tears.  The  little  birds  sat  in  the  chest- 
nut-tree, and  chirped  their  gladsome  soqg ; 
they  were  happy,  although  they  had  come 
with  him  to  the  funeral.  But  they  knew 
very  well  that  the  dead  man  was  now  in 
heaven,  and  that  he  had  wings  which  were 
much  larger  and  more  beautiful  than  their 
own ; for  he  had  led  a good  life,  and  there- 
fore was  it  that  they  rejoiced.  John  saw 
how  they  flew  from  the  green  trees  out  into 
the  world,  and  he  felt  a wish  to  fly  away, 
too.  But  he  first  made  a large  cross  of 
wood,  to  put  over  his  father’s  grave ; and 
when  he  carried  it  there  in  the  evening,  he 
found  the  grave  decorated  with  flowers. 
Others  had  done  this  ; for  everybody  loved  . 
the  good  old  father  that  was  now  no  more. 

Early  in  the  morning  John  buckled  on  his 
little  knapsack,  put  his  whole  fortune,  con- 
sisting of  fifty  crowns,  carefully  into  his  gir- 
dle, and  intended  *.o  set  out  on  his  travel« 

91 


But,  before  doing  so,  he  went  to  the  church- 
yard, repeated  a pious  thanksgiving  at  the 
grave  of  his  father,  and  said:  “Farewell, 
dear  father  ! I vow  that  I will  always  act 
uprightly,  and  then  you  will  be  able  to  pray 
God  to  protect  and  aid  me.” 

In  the  fields  the  flowers  displayed  them- 
selves fresh  and  beautiful  in  the  warm  sun- 
chine,  and  appeared  to  nod  him  their  wel- 
coming. John  returned  once  more  to  th& 
old  church  where,  when  a little  child,  he 
had  been  baptized,  and  where  he  had  gone 
every  Sunday  with  his  father  to  hear  the 
service,  and  where,  too,  he  had  sung  many 
a psalm.  There  he  saw  how  the  little  sprite 
of  the  cluirch  stood  in  the  belfry-window,  in 
a pointed  red  cap,  and  with  one  hand  shaded 
his  eyes  from  the  sun,  which  was  shining 
directly  in  his  face.  John  waved  him  a 
farewell ; and  the  little  sprite  waved  his  red 
cap  in  return,  laid  one  hand  on  his  heart, 
and  kissing  the  other,  gave  him  to  under- 
stand hoAV  sincerely  he  wished  him  well, 
and  that  he  might  have  a right  happy  jour- 
ney. 


92 


flit  /tllQiii-frnntltr. 


John  now  thought  of  all  the  fine  things 
ne  shoild  see  in  the  great  and  splendid 
world,  and  kept  going  on  farther  and  farthei 
than  he  had  ever  been  before,  till  at  last  he 
did  not  know  a single  place  that  he  passed 
through,  or  the  people  whom  he  met.  So 
he  was  now  a good  way  off,  and  amid  per- 
fect strangers. 

The  first  night  he  was  forced  to  pass  on 
a haycock  in  the  open  air : other  bed  had 
he  none.  But  this  seemed  to  him  very  beau- 
tiful; the  king,  he  thought,  could  not  have 
a better.  The  whole  large  meadow  watered 
by  a stream,  the  haycock,  and  the  blue  sky 
above,  seemed  to  him  a splendid  bedcham- 
ber. The  green  grass,  with  the  many  red 
and  white  flowers,  was  his  carpet;  the  elder 
and  the  wild  roses  his  flower-bed ; and  the 
stream,  with  its  fresh  blue  waves,  his  bath, 
out  of  which  the  sedge  nodded  him  a friend- 
ly “good  night”  and  “good  morrow.”  The 
moon  was  the  large  night-lamp,  which  burnt 
high  up  on  the  blue  ceiling  of  heaven,  with- 
out any  danger  of  setting  his  bed-curtains 
on  fire.  Here  ho  might  sleep  quietly;  and 


he  did  S3,  too,  and  only  awoke  just  ls  the 
sun  was  rising,  and  the  little  l.rds  all  around 
sang.  “Good  morrow!  good  morrow!  are 
you  not  up  yet?” 

When  he  set  out  again  on  his  wayfaring, 
and  had  reached  the  next  village,  he  heard 
the  ringing  of  bells,  and  saw  the  people  go- 
ing to  church.  He  therefore  entered  the 
house  of  God,  heard  the  sermon,  and  joined 
in  the  song  of  thanksgiving ; and  it  seemed 
to  him  as  if  he  were  again  in  his  own  church 
with  his  father. 

In  the  churchyard  were  many  graves,  on 
some  of  which  rank  grass  was  growing. 
“ The  mound  over  my  father’s  grave  will 
soon  look  so,  too,”  thought  he  in  sorrowful 
silence;  “for  no  one  will  weed  up  the  grass 
and  plant  flowers  upon  it !”  While  he  thus 
talked  to  himself,  he  pulled  up  some  of  the 
weeds  about  the  graves,  set  up  the  crosses 
that  had  fallen  down,  and  hung  on  them  tha 
wreaths  of  evergreens  that  had  been  blown 
away  by  the  wind.  “ Perhaps  another  may 
do  as  much  for  my  father’s  grave,  as  I am 
no  longer  able,  said  he  At  the  gate  oi  the 

94 


$ljf  jFfllmn-todrt 


churchyard  stood  an  old  beggar,  tfho  sup- 
ported himself  on  crutches.  John  gave  him 
a piece  of  silver,  and  then,  contented  and 
happy,  continued  his  journey. 

Towards  evening  a storm  came  on  ; John 
tried  to  find  a place  of  shelter,  but  it  was 
dark  before  he  could  reach  a house.  At  last 
he  saw  a small  church  on  a hill  before  him, 
and  when  he  reached  it  he  found  the  door 
ajar.  So  he  went  in,  intending  to  remain 
there  till  the  storm  had  subsided. 

“ I will  sit  here  in  the  corner,”  said  he ; 
“lam  quite  tired,  and  have  need  of  a little 
rest.”  He  leaned  his  head  against  the  wall, 
folded  his  hands  as  he  repeated  his  evening 
prayer,  and  soon  fell  into  a sound  sleep,  the 
while  it  thundered  and  lightened  without. 

It  was  midnight  when  he  awoke;  but  the 
storm  had  passed,  and  the  moon  shone 
through  the  high  church-windows.  On  the 
pavement  of  the  church  stood  an  open  coffin, 
in  which  a dead  man  lay,  placed  there  for 
burial.  Jolrn  was  not  the  least  frightened  at 
the  sight;  ffir  he  had  a good  conscience,  and 

knew  for  ccr*ainthat  the  dead  harm  10  one; 

9.1 


€jje  /dlntti- trancin'. 

but  thaf  it  is  the  wicked  only  who  can  work 
us  evil.  And  such  were  the  two  men  now 
standing  beside  the  corpse  in  the  open  cof- 
fin, that  had  been  only  placed  in  the  church 
until  the  funeral.  They  would  leave  him 
no  place  even  in  death,  and  intended  to  fling 
the  dead  man  out  into  the  churchyard. 

“ Why  will  you  do  that  ?”  asked  John. 
“ It  is  wrong  of  you : let  the  corpse  rest,  in 
Christ’s  name  !” 

“ Hallo  ! what  now  !”  answered  the  two 
villains.  “ He  has  cheated  us;  he  owed  us 
money  that  he  could  not  pay,  and  now  he 
has  chosen  to  die  into  the  bargain  ; so  that 
we  shall  never  get  a farthing  of  our  money. 
We  will  have  our  revenge,  and  fling  him 
out  of  his  coffin,  and  let  him  lie  on  the  earth 
like  a dog.” 

“I  have  only  fifty  crowns,”  said  John; 

they  are  all  my  inheritance ; but  I will 
give  them  to  you  if  you  will  only  promise  me 
faithfully  to  leave  the  poor  corpse  in  peace.’ 

“If  you  choose  to  pay  for  him,”  continued 
the  two  men,  “ we  will  do  him  no  harm, 
that  you  may  be  sure  of.” 

Ofi 


Æh?  /tllntn-Ærnnrlrr. 


Then  they  took  the  money  that  John  of« 
fered  them,  laughed  scornfully  at  his  good 
nature,  and  left  the  church.  But  John  laid 
out  the  dead  body  carefully,  folded  the 
hands  over  the  breast,  and  bade  it  adieu. 
He,  too,  then  left  the  little  church,  and  went 
with  a light  heart  through  the  wood 

All  around,  where  the  waning  moon  could 
shine  through  the  trees,  he  saw  the  pretty 
little  elves  at  play,  who  did  not  allow  his 
arrival  to  interrupt  them,  because  they 
knew  that  good  people  only  are  permitted 
to  see  them.  Some  were  hardly  as  big  as 
one’s  finger,  and  had  their  long  yellow  hair 
done  up  with  golden  combs.  They  rocked 
themselves  on  the  large  dewdrops  that 
sparkled  on  the  leaves  of  the  trees  and  the 
high  grass ; and  if  a drop  rolled  down,  and 
one  or  the  other  of  the  little  creatures  tumbled 
head  over  heels  on  the  long  grass,  the  rest 
laughed  and  danced  for  joy.  It  was  a droll 
sight  to  see.  They  began,  too,  to  sing;  and 
John  knew  all  the  airs.  Large  brown  spi- 
ders, with  silver  crowns,  were  obliged  to 
stretch  long  suspension-bridges  from  on« 


MnnMtaritr. 


hedge  to  the  other,  which,  when  the  dew* 
drops  fell  on  them,  looked  like  a web  of  spun 
glass.  Thus  they  amused  themselves  in  all 
manner  of  ways  till  the  sun  appeared.  Then 
the  little  elves  crept  into  the  cups  of  the  flow- 
ers, and  the  wind  broke  their  suspension- 
bridges  and  their  aerial  castles,  and  wafted 
them  through  the  air. 

John  had  just  reached  the  skirt  of  tho 
wood,  when  the  loud  voice  of  a man  called 
after  him,  “ Hallo,  comrade  ! where  are  you 
bound  for  ?” 

“ Into  the  wide  world,”  answered  John. 
“ I have  neither  father  nor  mother — I am  a 
poor  youth  ; but  I trust  confidently  in  God, 
who,  I do  not  doubt,  will  help  me  on.” 

“ I,  too,  am  going  into  the  world,”  said 
the  strange  man.  “Shall  we  two  go  to- 
gether?” 

“With  all  my  heart,”  answered  Jolui ; 
and  now  on  they  both  went  in  company, 
and  soon  bégan  to  like  each  other  very  much ; 
for  they  both  were  good  persons.  But  John 
soon  remarked  that  his  companion  possessed 
much  greater  experience  than  himself;  for 
98 


€Ijr  /rllDm-Crauplrr. 


he  knew  somewhat  of  everything,  and  had 
travelled  over  the  whole  world. 

The  sun  was  already  high  in  the  heavens, 
when  they  seated  themselves  under  a tree  to 
eat  their  breakfast.  At  the  same  moment 
an  old  woman  passed  by,  who  was  so  weak 
that  she  was  obliged  to  go  on  crutches ; and 
yet  she  carried  a bundle  of  sticks  at  her 
back,  that  she  had  gathered  with  much  la- 
bor in  the  wood ; and  out  of  her  tucked-up 
apron  three  bundles  of  fern  and  willow- 
twigs  were  hanging.  When  she  had  got 
quite  near  the  two  travelers,  her  foot 
slipped  ; she  fell,  and  uttered  a cry  of  pain  ; 
for  in  falling  the  old  woman  had  broken  her 
leg. 

John  jumped  up,  and  wanted  his  com- 
panion to  help  him  to  carry  the  old  woman 
home  ; but  the  stranger  unbuckled  his  knap- 
sack, took  out  a little  box,  and  said,  that  he 
had  a salve  in  it  which  would  cure  the  leg 
directly  ; but,  as  recompense  for  the  cure,  he 
required  the  old  woman  to  give  him  the 
three  bundles  she  had  in  her  apron. 

“A  goodly  payment,  truly!”  answered 


.Mntn- tante. 


the  old  woman,  laughing  wildly.  It  was 
true,  she  said,  she  did  not  much  like  giving 
away  the  herbs ; yet  it  was  a sad  thing  to 
lie  a-bed  with  broken  limbs ; and  therefore 
she  gave  them  to  the  stranger.  As  soon  as 
she  had  rubbed  her  leg  with  the  salve,  she 
got  up  quite  cured;  and  could  walk  even 
better  than  before.  Such  was  the  healing 
power  of  this  ointment ; which,  however,  is 
not  to  be  had  at  any  apothecary’s. 

“ What  will  you  do  with  the  herbs  ?”  asked 
John  of  his  companion. 

“Those  are  three  beautiful  nosegays,  in 
my  eyes,”  replied  the  stranger;  “for  you 
must  know  that  I am  a very  eccentric  per- 
sonage.” The  two  travellers  then  went  on 
for  a good  distance. 

“ What  a storm  is  approaching !”  said 
John,  suddenly:  “Look  at  those  black 
clouds !” 

“You  mistake,”  said  the  other;  “those 
are  not  clouds,  but  high  mountains, — on 
which,  far  above  the  clouds,  one  enjoys  the 
pure  air  of  heaven.  Oh,  there  it  is  wondrous 
beautiful ! To-morrow,  doubtless,  vve  shall 
100 


tøh t /rilora-tariK. 


have  got  so  far  on  our  travels  through  the 
world.” 

But  the  mountains  were  not  so  near  as 
John  thought;  for  they  had  to  walk  the 
whole  day  before  they  reached  them.  Dark 
woods  hung  upon  their  sides;  and  stones 
were  there  as  large  as  a whole  town.  “ It 
would  cost  a good  deal  of  trouble,”  said  the 
stranger,  “ to  cross  the  high  mountains ; and 
it  would  theicfore  be  better  to  go  10  an  inn, 
and  rest  and  strengthen  ourselves  for  the  fol- 
* lowing  day.” 

At  the  little  public-house  many  people 
were  assembled;  for  a man  with  a puppet- 
show  had  just  arrived,  and  every  body  was 
curious  to  see  the  play.  On  one  of  the  front 
seats  sat,  among  other  spectators,  a sleek 
butcher,  with  his  bull-dog  beside  him. 

The  play  began.  A king  and  a queen  sat 
on  a splendid  throne:  both  wore  golden 
crowns,  and  had  robes  with  long  trains. 
Pretty  puppets,  with  glass  eyes  and  large 
mustachios,  stood  at  the  window,  which  they 
kept  on  opening  and  shutting,  that  the  royal 
pair  might  enjoy  tf.3  fresh  air.  All  went  on 


Æljr  Mntn-€rastUr. 


well,  and  without  accident;  but  when  th« 
queen  rose  to  walk  across  the  stage,  the 
bull-dog — heaven  knows  why,  or  what  could 
put  it  into  his  head — made  a spring  at  the 
stage,  seized  the  lovely  queen  by  her  slender 
waist,  and  treated  her  most  shamefully. 

The  poor  man,  who  played  the  whole 
piece  alone,  was  so  unhappy  at  this  misfor- 
tune, that  he  shed  tears  ; but  when  the  spec- 
tators had  left  the  room,  John’s  companion 
went  up  to  him,  and  comforted  him  with  the 
assurance  that  he  could  cure  the  doll.  !So 
he  took  his  little  box  out  of  his  knapsack, 
and  rubbed  the  ill-used  queen  with  the  won- 
derful ointment  that  had  cured  the  leg  of  the 
old  woman  in  the  wood.  Immediately  the 
queen  recovered ; and  now  could  even  move 
arms  and  legs  herself,  as  if  she  were  alive. 

The  puppet-showman  was  now  as  joyful 
as  he  had  before  been  sad ; and  that  his  best 
figure  could  move  of  itself  seemed  to  him  no 
trifling  wonder. 

In  the  night  there  was  suddenly  heard  a 
continued  groaning  in  the  room,  so  that  every 
body  in  the  house  was  awakened  by  it,  and 

102 


tøljf  /fllinn-€rawlfr. 


run  u see  who  was  taken  ill.  The  showman 
went  to  his  puppets ; for  it  seemed  to  him  as 
if  the  sighing  and  lamentation  proceeded 
from  them.  To  his  astonishment  he  saw 
that  all  the  dolls  were  lying  about  in  the 
greatest  confusion,  and  moaned  unceasingly, 
because  they  wished  to  be  rubbed  too,  as  the 
queen  had  been,  that  they  also  might  have 
the  power  of  moving  alone.  The  queen 
herself  fell  on  her  knees,  lifted  her  splendid 
golden  crown  on  high,  and  said,  “ Take  my 
crown  ! — gladly  will  1 give  it, — anoint  only 
my  consort  and  my  court!”  This  scene 
moved  the  showman  so  much,  that  he  offered 
the  stranger  the  receipts  of  the  next  repre- 
sentation, if  he  would  only  rub  some  of  his 
best  figures  with  the  wondrous  salve.  The 
stranger  said  he  did  not  ask  for  money ; he 
demanded  only  the  sabre  which  the  show- 
man wore ; and  when  the  latter  had  most 
readily  given  it  up  to  him,  he  rubbed  six  of 
the  puppets  with  his  ointment,  who  began 
to  dance  immediately,  and  so  naturally,  that 
all  the  servants,  real  living  people,  we*e 
■eized  with  a mighty  longing  to  dance  also 


&j]p  .Mfltu-tafttr. 

and  the  whole  household  was  soon  figuring 
away — coachman  and  cook,  waiter  and 
chamber-maid.  In  this  way  the  whole  night 
passed  in  the  merriest  manner  imaginable. 

The  next  morning  John  and  his  com- 
panion left  the  inn,  ascended  the  high  moun- 
tains, and  wandered  through  the  large  pine- 
forest.  They  had  soon  climbed  so  high  that 
the  churches  beneath  them  seemed  only  like 
little  red-berries  amid  green  bushes;  and 
their  gaze  wandered  afar  for  miles.  Never 
before  had  John  seen  so  much  of  the  glorious 
world.  The  gladdening  sun  shone  pleasantly 
in  the  sky,  and  the  horn  of  the  hunter  re- 
sounded in  the  valley.  “ Beneficent  God,” 
said  John,  lost  in  rapture  at  the  sight,  “fain 
would  I thank  Thee  for  Thy  goodness  to  us 
men,  and  for  the  glorious  beauty  of  Thy 
world  in  which  Thou  hast  placed  us !’  and 
a tear  of  joy  glittered  in  his  eye. 

His  companion,  too,  stood  lost  in  thought, 
and  looked  down  upon  the  plain  with  its  nu- 
merous villages  and  towns  illumined  by  the 
sun.  At  the  same  moment  they  heard  a 
strange  sound;  and,  on  looking  up,  beheld  a 
104 


.Mntn-Criinplpr. 


large  white  swan  soaring  in  the  air.  The 
swan  was  of  extraordinary  beanty,  and  sang 
as  they  had  never  heard  bird  sing  before; 
but  its  song  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  and  at 
last  it  bent  its  long  black  neck  downwards, 
sank  slowly,  and  soon  after  lay  dead  at  their 
feet. 

“Such  a beautiful  pair  of  wings,  so  white 
and  large  as  those  of  this  fine  bird  are  worth 
something,”  said  the  man.  “ I will  take 
them  with  me.  Now  you  see,  John,  that 
the  sabre  is  of  some  use.”  And  hereupon 
he,  at  one  stroke,  cut  off  both  the  wings  of 
the  dead  bird,  saying  he  intended  to  take 
care  of  them. 

They  now  continued  their  journey  over 
the  mountains  for  many  miles,  till  at  last 
they  saw  a large  town  lying  before  them, 
with  more  than  a hundred  steeples  and  domes 
that  glittered  in  the  sunshine  like  silver.  In 
the  middle  of  this  large  town  was  a magni- 
ficent palace  of  marble,  the  roof  of  which 
was  of  pure  gold  ; for  here  dwelt  the  King  of 
the  country. 

John  and  his  companion  did  not  enter  the 

105 


€)jt  Mnni-føattlit 


town  immediately,  but  went  to  an  inn  out- 
side ihe  city-gates,  that  they  might  first 
brush  and  clean  their  things ; for  they  wished 
to  appear  as  decent  people  in  the  streets  of 
so  magnificent  a town.  Here  the  landlord 
told  them  that  the  King  of  that  country  was 
such  a good  man,  that  he  never  did  any 
thing  to  displease  his  subjects,  but  that  the 
Princess,  his  daughter,  was  a sad  lady.  As 
to  beauty,  she  did  not  want  for  that,  for  there 
could  not  be  a more  lovely  maiden  in  the 
world : but  she  was  a bad  witch,  for  whose 
sake  many  a young  prince  had  lost  his  life. 
Any  one  might  demand  her  hand;  but  he 
must  then  guess  her  thoughts  three  times. 
Should  he  really  guess  them,  the  i a re  mar- 
ried him,  and  he  was  to  be  king  over  the 
land  when  her  father  died ; but  should  he  be 
unable  to  answer  the  three  questions  pro- 
posed, she  had  him  hanged  or  beheaded ; so 
cruel  a creature  was  this  Princess.  The  old 
King,  her  father,  was  much  grieved  at  the 
matter ; however,  he  could  not  change  it,  for 
he  had  once  for  all  declared  he  would  have 
nothing  to  dc  with  the  love-affairs  of  hi* 


ty t .fellmn-ffrirailfr. 

daughter,  and  in  this  respect  she  might  ad 
quite  as  she  chose. 

Hitherto,  as  often  as  a young  Prince  lu*d 
come  to  guess  the  thoughts  of  the  Princess, 
it  had  turned  out  badly,  and  the  suitor  had 
been  either  hanged  or  beheaded.  Then  peo- 
ple said  he  had  been  warned  beforehand, 
so  it  was  his  own  fault  if  he  chose  to  ni^ke 
the  Princess  an  offer  instead  of  leaving  her 
aione.  Once  a-year  the  old  King  and  all  his 
.oidiers  went  to  church,  to  pray  that  his 
daughter  might  change;  however,  she  al- 
ways remained  the  same.  Old  women  who 
were  addicted  to  gin-drinking,  on  this  day 
colored  their  drains  black,  so  great  was  the 
general  mourning  for  the  Princess  ; and  what 
could  the  good  wives  do  more  to  show  their 
sincere  sympathy  in  the  King’s  grief? 

“ The  good-for-nothing  Princess  !”  said 
John,  when  the  landlord  had  finished  his 
story  ; “she  ought  to  have  the  rod,  for  she 
deserves  it.  Were  I her  old  father,  I would 
•oon  teach  her  to  give  up  her  cruelty.” 

While  they  were  speaking,  a loud  “ Hur- 
!”  was  heard  in  the  street.  It  was  th* 

107 


was 


tøj n /tllnm-tørnnilrr. 


Princess  who  rode  by,  and  so  dazzlinglj 
beautiful  was  she  that,  when  the  people 
looked  at  her,  they  forgot  her  wickedness, 
and  broke  out  in  shouts  of  joy  wherever  she 
showed  herself.  Twelve  beautiful  damsels, 
in  white  silk  dresses,  each  holding  a golden 
tulip  in  her  hand,  rode  by  her  side  on  jet 
black  horses,  while  the  Princess  sat  on  one 
that  was  quite  white.  Her  riding-habit  was 
of  gold  brocade,  sprinkled  with  diamonds 
and  rubies;  her  riding- whip  was  like  a sun- 
beam, and  the  golden  crown  on  her  lovely 
head  resembled  the  small  stars  of  heaven. 
Over  her  charming  dress  hung  a zephyr-like 
mantle  of  more  than  a thousand  butterflies’ 
wings.  But  all  this  splendor  was  surpassed 
by  the  radiant  beauty  of  the  Princess. 

When  John  beheld  her,  he  blushed  deeply, 
and  was  unable  to  utter  a word ; for  the 
rincess  looked  exactly  like  that  lovely 
maiden  of  whom  he  had  dreamed  the  night 
his  father  died.  She  appeared  of  matchless 
beauty,  and  he  could  not  help  loving  hei 
with  all  his  heart.  It  is  certainly  not  true, 
thought  he,  that  she  is  such  a wicked  witch 
108 


Clip  .Mntn-Crnnflfr. 


and  lhat  she  has  those  youths  who  demand 
her  hand  beheaded  or  hanged  if  they  cannot 
guess  her  thoughts.  Any  one  has  the  right 
to  ask  her  in  marriage,  even  the  poorest.  I 
too  will  go  to  the  palace  as  a suitor,  for  I 
feel  that  I cannot  be  happy  without  her. 

When  he  informed  the  others  of  his  inten- 
tion, all  counselled  him  against  so  rash  a 
step,  thinking  he  would  fare  no  better  than 
his  predecessors;  and  his  travelling  com- 
panion was  against  it  too.  But  John  was 
full  of  hope;  he  brushed  his  clothes  most 
carefully,  polished  his  shoes,  washed  his 
hands  and  face,  combed  his  nice  golden  hair 
into  curls,  and  then  set  off  quite  alone  foi 
the  town  and  the  palace. 

“ Come  in  !”  cried  the  old  King,  when 
John  Knocked  at  the  door.  He  entered,  and 
the  good  old  gentleman  advanced  towards 
him  in  dressing-gown  and  embroidered  slip- 
peis; yet  he  had  his  golden  crown  on  his 
head,  the  sceptre  in  his  right  hand,  and  the 
imperial  globe  in  his  left. 

“ Stop  a moment,”  said  he,  tucking  the 
golden  globe  under  his  arm ; and  holding  out 

109 


fire  /elhiin-fttiiirler. 


one  hand  to  John,  he  gave  him  a hearty 
welo  jme.  But  as  soon  as  he  heard  John’s 
intention  of  proposing  for  the  Princess,  he 
began  to  weep  so  bitterly  that  globe  and 
sceptre  both  rolled  down  upon  the  floor,  and 
he  was  obliged  to  dry  his  tears  with  his 
dressing-gown.  Poor  good  old  King ! 

“ Don’t  do  it !”  said  he,  warningly,  to 
John;  “the  same  will  happen  to  you  that 
has  happened  to  all  the  rest.  Only  look 
here !”  He  tuen  led  John  to  the  park  of  the 
Princess,  which,  true  enough,  presented  a 
most  dreadful  spectacle;  for  on  every  tree 
hung  the  skeletons  of  three  or  four  kings’ 
sons,  who  had  wooed  the  Princess  but  could 
not  guess  what  she  thought  about.  As  often 
as  the  wind  stirred  among  the  leaves,  the 
dry  bones  rattled,  and  scared  away  the  birds, 
so  that  not  a single  songster  showed  himself 
in  this  fearful  grove.  The  flowers  were  tied 
up  to  human  bones  instead  of  sticks,  and  all 
around,  over  the  more  tender  plants,  death’s 
heads  were  grinning.  That  was  a fine  sort 
of  Garden  for  a Princess ! 

'c  Here  you  may  see  what  will  be  your 


tyt  /bIIdid- Grander. 

fate,”  said  the  old  King.  “ I counsel  you, 
therefore,  to  desist  from  your  intention,  if 
y oi : do  not  wish  to  fare  like  these.  You  will, 
besides,  make  me  most  unhappy  if  you  per- 
sist ; for  it  grieves  me  to  the  very  heart.’ 

John  kissed  the  good  old  King’s  hand,  and 
comforted  him  with  the  prospect  of  being 
successful  in  obtaining  the  beautiful  Prin- 
cess, whom  he  loved  above  every  thing. 

Just  at  this  moment  the  Princess  returned 
from  her  ride,  and  galloped  with  all  her  la- 
dies into  the  courtyard  of  the  palace.  1 he 
King  and  John  went  to  meet  and  salute  her. 
The  Princess  was  exceedingly  friendly,  and 
gave  John  her  hand,  which  increased  his 
passion  for  her  still  more ; and  he  would  on 
no  account  believe  that  she  conld  be  a witch 
as  everybody  asserted. 

Then  they  all  returned  to  the  drawing- 
room, and  were  served  by  the  prettiest  little 
damsels  imaginable,  who  handed  round 
sweetmeats  and  gingerbread  nuts.  But  thi* 
old  King  was  so  melancholy  that  he  ate  no- 
thing—and,  besides,  the  gingerbread  nut* 
were  probably  a little  too  hard  tor  him. 


€\)t  Mam- talte. 


Ti  wav  now  arranged  that  John  was  to 
co,ae  to  the  palace  again  the  next  morning, 
when  the  judges  and  the  grand  council  would 
bo  assembled  to  hear  how  he  succeeded  in 
guessing  the  thoughts  of  the  Princess. 
Should  he  guess  right  the  first  time,  he  was 
to  appear  before  the  judges  two  other  days 
in  the  same  manner  ; but  as  yet  no  suitors 
for  the  Princess’s  hand  had  outlived  the  first 
day. 

John  was  not  the  least  cast  down  at  this 
information ; on  the  contrary,  he  was  rather 
gay,  and  of  good  courage.  He  thought  only 
of  the  lovely  princess ; and  trusted,  besides, 
to  the  all-loving  God  for  help.  As  to  the 
way  he  was  to  receive  it,  he  could  form  no 
idea  ; so  he  preferred  thinking  no  more  about 
the  matter.  Jumping  for  joy,  he  returned 
to  his  inn,  where  his  companion  awaited 
him. 

John  could  never  tell  enough  of  the  amia- 
bility and  extraordinary  beauty  of  the  Prin- 
cess ; and  he  longed  already  for  the  morrow, 
when  he  was  to  iel.urn  to  the  paace,  and 
guess  the  thoughts  oH/is  belovrd 


€\\t  .Maui-Ærnnplfr. 


But  liis  companion  shook  his  head  doubt- 
mgly,  and  was  quite  sorrowful.  “I  love 
you  so  well,”  said  he ; “ we  could  have  kept 
together  for  a long  time  yet,  and  now  Ave  are 
to  part ! Good,  dear  Johnny  ! 1 could  weep 
at  this  approaching  separation;  but  I will 
not  disturb  your  joy  on  the  last  evening  that 
we  may  ever  pass  together.  So  let  us  rather 
be  cheerful ; to-morrow,  when  you  are  gone, 
I shall  have  time  enough  to  weep  !” 

The  inhabitants  had  already  heard  of  the 
arrival  of  a new  suitor  for  the  hand  of  the 
Princess,  on  which  account  a general 
mourning  prevailed  throughout  the  whole 
town.  The  theatre  was  closed,  the  King 
and  the  clergy  kneeled  in  the  churches,  and 
even  the  confectioners  put  crosses  on  their 
little  figures  of  sugar- work  ; for  how  was  it 
possible  that  this  suitor  should  succeed  bet- 
ter than  the  rest  7 

In  the  evening  John’s  companion  had  a 
large  bowl  of  punch  brought  in,  and  said, 
“ they  would  now  be  right  merry,  and  drink 
to  the  Princess’s  health.”  But  John  had 
not  drank  two  glasses,  before  such  a drow> 
e * U3 


tøjr*  /dlnm-Ærfltrtltr. 


øinesk)  came  over  him,  that  he  could  k^ep 
his  eyes  open  no  longer,  and  fell  asleep 
in  his  chair. 

His  comrade  then  lifted  him  gently  into 
bed ; and  when  it  was  night,  took  the  two 
wings  which  he  had  cut  off  the  dead  swan, 
and  fastened  them  on  his  own  shoulders. 
He  afterwards  put  the  largest  bundle  of  fern 
and  willow-twigs,  which  the  old  woman  in 
the  forest  had  given  him,  into  his  pocket, 
opened  a window,  and  flew  out,  away  over 
the  town,  and  straight  to  the  palace,  where 
he  hid  himself  in  a bow-window,  close  to 
the  bedchamber  of  the  Princess. 

Stillness  reigned  in  the  town.  The  clock 
was  striking  a quarter  to  twelve,  when  the 
window  was  opened,  and  the  Princess,  in  a 
large  white  garment,  and  with  large  black 
wings,  flew  away  over  the  town  towards  a 
high  mountain.  As  soon  as  the  man  per- 
ceived her,  he  made  himself  invisible,  fol- 
lowed the  Princess  through  the  air,  and  beat 
her  so  with  his  rod,  that  the  blood  well  nigh 
followed  the  stripes.  Holloa!  Ho!  That 
was  a u rj‘  through  the  air ! The  wind 
114 


ty i /cllma-Ærinidtr. 


caught  the  garment  of  the  Princess,  blowirg 
it  about  like  a sail,  and  the  moon  shone 
bright  the  while. 

“ Oh  ! how  it  hails  !”  said  the  Princess,  at 
every  stripe  of  the  rod  ; and  well  enough  did 
she  deserve  the  chastisement.  At  last  she 
arrived  at  the  mountain,  and  knocked  fo 
admittance.  A noise  like  thunder  was  heard 
as  the  mountain  opened,  and  the  Princess 
entered ; and  the  man,  whom  no  one  could 
see,  followed  at  her  heels. 

They  passed  through  a long  dark  passage, 
the  walls  of  which  shone  like  fire  from  the 
glowing  spiders  that  were  running  up  and 
down.  They  afterwards  arrived  in  a spa  ■ 
cious  hall,  built  of  gold  and  silver,  on  whose 
sides  red  and  blue  flowers  were  displayed  as 
large  as  sun-flowers;  but  no  one  dared  to 
pick  them,  for  their  stalks  were  poisonous 
snakes,  and  the  flowers  themselves  the  fire 
that  streamed  from  their  jaws.  The  whole 
ceiling  was  covered  with  beaming  woims, 
and  sky-blue  bats  that  fluttered  their  trans- 
parent wings  unceasingly. 

In  the  middle  of  the  hall  stood  a large 

ns 


€\p  fBlhra-tørnrabr. 


throne,  supported  by  the  skeletons  cf  four 
horses,  caparisoned  with  trappings  of  red 
spiders.  The  throne  itself  was  of  milk-white 
glass ; and  the  cushions  were  mice,  each  one 
holding  the  tail  of  another  in  his  mouth. 
Above  was  outspread  a canopy  of  rose-co- 
lored cobweb,  studded  with  small  flies  that 
shone  like  precious  stones. 

On  the  throne  sat  an  old  goblin,  with  a 
crown  on  his  frightful  head,  and  a sceptre 
in  his  hand.  He  kissed -the  Princess  on  the 
forehead,  desired  her  to  sit  beside  him  on  the 
costly  throne  ; and  then  the  music  immedi- 
ately began.  Large  black  grasshoppers 
played  the  jews-harp,  and  an  owl  beat  his 
breast  instead  of  a drum,  as  he  had  no  other. 
Little  fiends,  each  one  with  a Will-o’-the- 
Wisp  in  his  cap,  danced  to  this  music  about 
the  hall.  Not  one  of  the  company  discovered 
the  man  who  had  placed  himself  immedi- 
ately behind  the  throne,  whence  he  could 
hear  and  see  all  that  happened. 

The  courtiers  of  the  mountain-dwarf  now 
entered  the  saloon ; they  did  so  as  if  they 
were  persons  of  immense  importance ; but 
116 


€fjt  .fillnin-^rnnflfr. 

any  one  a little  skilled  in  human  natur« 
could  easily  see  that  they  did  not  feel  happy, 
They  were,  moreover,  nothing  but  broom 
sticks,  with  cabbages  for  heads;  into  which 
the  goblin  had  conjured  some  life,  and  had 
them  dressed  in  embroidered  clothes.  How- 
ever, that  was  of  no  consequence  ; as  they 
were  only  there  for  parade  and  show. 

When  the  dancing  had  lasted  some  time, 
the  Princess  told  the  mountain-sprite  that 
she  had  got  another  suitor ; and  asked  him 
at  last  on  what  she  should  think,  when  he 
came  to  the  palace  next  morning  to  guess 
her  thoughts. 

“ I’ll  tell  you,  my  daughter,”  said  the  old 
goblin.  “Choose  something  quite  simple 
then  he  will  be  least  likely  to  guess  it 
Think,  for  example,  of  your  shoe:  he’ll 
never  dream  of  that.  Then  off  with  his 
head  and  don’t  forget  to  bring  his  eyes  witli 
you  to-morrow  night ; for  they  are  what  I 
am  very  fond  of.” 

The  Princess  bowed  low,  and  assured 
him  she  would  not  forget  the  eyes  when  she 
came  again.  Then  the  Sprite  opened  the 

nr 


€jjt  /rllnin-taflm 

mountain,  and  the  Princess  returned  to  the 
palace  through  the  air ; hut  John’s  compan- 
ion followed  close  behind,  and  gave  her  such 
a whipping  with  his  rod  that  she  complained 
loudly  of  the  violent  hail-storm,  till  at  last 
she  slipped  in  at  her  chamber- window.  But 
the  stranger  returned  to  his  inn,  where  John 
still  lay  fast  asleep,  took  his  wings  from  his 
shoulders,  and  went  to  bed ; for  he  was,  no 
doubt,  pretty  tired  after  so  fatiguing  a jour 
ney. 

It  was  still  early  when  John  awoke.  He 
left  his  bed,  and  his  companion  got  up  too, 
and  told  him  he  had  dreamed  that  night  of 
the  Princess  and  her  shoe;  wherefore  he 
begged  him  to  ask  the  Princess  if  it  were 
not  of  her  shoe  she  had  thought. 

“ 1 can  just  as  well  say  the  shoe  as  any- 
thing else,”  said  John.  “ Perhaps  what 
you  dreamed  is  right ; for  I have  the  firm 
conviction  that  God  will  help  me  out  of  this 
dilemma.  Notwithstanding,  I will  wish 
you  farewell ; for  should  I not  guess  the 
Princess’s  thoughts,  I shall  never  see  you 
more.” 
us 


€{j t (ffllnin-€rnntler. 


The  (wo  travelers  then  embraced  each 
other,  and  John  bent  his  steps  towards  the 
town  and  the  palace.  The  festal  hall  was 
filled  with  people;  the  judges  sat  in  large 
arm-chairs,  with  soft  cushions  on  which  they 
leaned  their  heads  because  they  were  obliged 
to  think  so  much. 

The  old  King  got  up  as  soon  as  he  per- 
ceived John,  and  wiped  his  eyes  with  his 
white  pocket-handkerchief.  Then  came  the 
Princess.  She  was  still  more  beautiful 
than  yesterday,  saluting  every  one  in  a most 
friendly  manner,  and,  giving  John  her  hand, 
said,  “ Good  morrow,  worthy  friend.” 

Now,  then,  John  was  to  say  on  what  the 
Princess  was  thinking.  Ah,  how  tenderly 
she  looked  at  him  ! but  as  soon  as  she  heard 
him  utter  the  word  “ Shoe  !”  she  turned 
pale,  and  her  whole  frame  began  to  tremble. 
That,  however,  availed  her  but  little;  for 
John  had  really  guessed  her  thoughts. 

Well,  how  happy  the  old  King  was  when 
he  heard  it ! He  turned  head  over  heels 
for  sheer  joy,  and  all  present  applauded  him 

119 


tøfo  /ellntn- tafler. 


and  John,  who,  it  was  decided,  had  that 
day  been  victorious. 

Equally  pleased  was  his  companion  when 
he  told  him  how  lucky  he  had  been  in  the 
adventure ; but  John  folded  his  hands  and 
thanked  God  for  His  gracious  assistance, 
Who,  he  confidently  hoped,  would  aid  him 
in  his  need  the  other  two  days'.  On  the  very 
next  morning  he  was  to  guess  the  thoughts 
of  the  Princess  for  the  second  time. 

The  evening  of  this  day  passed  like  the 
preceding  one.  When  John  was  asleep,  his 
comrade  fled  off  to  the  Princess,  and  followed 
her  to  the  enchanted  mountain.  This  time 
he  had  provided  himself  with  two  rods,  and 
whipped  the  poor  Princess  much  more  se- 
verely than  the  first  time.  No  one  saw  him, 
yet  he  heard  and  understood  all  that  passed 
in  the  hall  of  the  mountain-dwarf.  The 
Princess  was  to  think  this  time  on  her  glove, 
and  he  told  it  to  John  as  if  he  had  had  a 
dream.  John  was  enabled,  therefore,  to  guess 
rightly  on  what  the  Princess  had  thought 
the  second  time,  which  caused  undissemblod 
joy  at  the  palace 
120 


&Jj i /rllom-tørnittltr. 


Every  body  at  court  now  turned  head 
over  heels,  as  the  King  had  done  the  first 
day;  but  the  Princess  lay  on  a sofa,  and 
would  not  speak  a word. 

Now,  then,  the  third  day  was  to  be  got 
over, — should  that  turn  out  well,  then  John 
would  not  only  have  the  beautiful  Princess 
for  his  wife,  but  would  rule  over  the  whole 
kingdom  when  the  old  King  was  dead.  But 
could  he  not  guess  the  Princess’s  thoughts, 
he  would  lose  his  life,  and  the  Dwarf  of  the 
mountain  would  devour  his  eyes. 

This  evening  Jciin  went  to  bed  earlier 
than  usual,  said  his  prayers,  and  fell  into  a 
quiet  sleep.  His  comrade,  on  the  contrary, 
fastened  his  swan’s  wings  on  again,  buckled 
his  sabre  round  him,  and  put  three  rods  into 
his  pocket.  Then  off  he  Hew  to  the  palace. 

The  night  was  as  dark  as  pitch ; there 
was  such  a violent  storm  that  the  tiles  flew 
off  the  roofs,  and  the  trees  in  the  Princess’s 
park  waved  to  and  fro  with  the  rattling 
skeletons  of  the  princes  that  had  been 
hanged.  It  lightened  fearfully,  and  the 
thunders  rolled  so  dreadfully  that  it  was  but 
L 121 


fljB  .Mntn-'tattltt. 

one  continued  war  throughout  the  whole 
night. 

Now  the  window  of  the  bedchamber  flew 
open,  and  the  Princess  soared  through  the 
wildly  agitated  air.  The  paleness  of  death 
was  on  her  face ; but  she  laughed  at  the 
storm,  and  thought  it  was  not  yet  half  bad 
enough.  Her  garments  fluttered  in  the  wind, 
and  the  man  whipped  her  so  unmercifully 
with  his  threefold  rod  that  the  blood  flowed, 
and  she  could  at  last  hardly  fly  any  further. 
Finally  she  reached  the  mountain. 

“ It  hails  and  it  storms,”  said  she ; “ never 
have  I flown  in  such  a tempest !” 

“ It  is  possible  to  have  too  much  of  a good 
thing,”  answered  the  goblin. 

Then  the  Princess  related  to  him  how 
John  had  rightly  guessed  her  thoughts  a 
second  time  as  well.  Should  he  be  success- 
ful on  the  third  day,  the  victory  was  his ; 
she  would  no  longer  be  able  to  come  to  the 
mountain,  nor  could  carry  on  any  more 
witchcraft;  and  this  disturbed  her  ixceed- 
ihgly. 

11  He  shall  never  guess  on  what  you  think 


C|l i .ffllnra-^rnnFlfr. 


this  time,”  said  the  fiend.  “ I will  lind  out 
something  on  which  he  never  thought : if  he 
did,  he  must  be  a greater  sorcerer  than  I 
am.  Now  let  us  be  merry.” 

Saying  these  words,  he  seized  the  Prin- 
cess by  the  hand,  danced  with  her  round  the 
hall,  and  all  the  little  imps  and  wills-o’-the- 
wisp  followed  his  example.  The  red  spi- 
ders ran  up  and  down  the  wall,  so  that  they 
looked  like  flowers  of  fire;  the  owl  beat  his 
drum,  the  cricket  sighed,  and  the  black 
grasshoppers  played  the  jews-harp ; in  short, 
there  was  a regular  witches’  ball. 

When  the  imps  had  danced  enough,  the 
Princess  prepared  to  depart,  for  she  feared 
6he  might  be  missed  at  the  palace.  Ihe 
Dwarf  of  the  mountain  said  ho  would  ac- 
company her,  that  he  might  enjoy  her  com- 
pany the  longer. 

They  flew  now  through  the  air ; but  tho 
man  made  such  good  use  of  his  three  rods, 
that  the  mountain-imp  confessed  he  had 
never  been  in  such  a hail-storm  before. 

Arrived  at  the  palace,  he  bade  the  Prin- 
cess farewell,  and  whispered  in  her  eat 

in 


€|jb  Mnm-€ratirlEr. 


Think  of  my  head  !”  But  the  man  heard 
l e words  ; and  just  as  the  Princess  slipped 
into  her  bedchamber,  and  the  imp  turned 
round  to  go  to  his  enchanted  mountain,  the 
stranger  seized  him  by  his  black  beard,  and 
with  the  sabre  hewed  off  his  disgusting  head 
close  to  his  shoulders.  The  trunk  he  threw 
into  the  sea  as  food  for  the  fishes ; but  the 
head  he  dipped  in  the  water,  and  then  tied 
it  up  in  a silken  handkerchief.  He  carried 
it  home  with  him  to  the  inn,  and  laid  down 
to  sleep. 

On  the  following  morning  he  handed  the 
kerchief  to  John,  begging  him,  however,  not 
to  open  it  before  the  Princess  had  proposed 
her  question. 

The  last  day  the  large  hall  of  the  palace 
was  so  filled  with  people  that  they  could  not 
all  find  room  enough,  and  they  were  there- 
fore obliged  to  stand  on  each  other.  The 
councillors  sat  as  before  in  their  easy  arm- 
chairs, bolstered  with  cushions  of  eider- 
down ; and  the  old  king  was  dressed  in  a 
new  suit ; and  the  crown  and  the  sceptre  had 
been  rubbed  up  and  polished  tremendously 

124 


€\ }i  .ffllnm-'^rnntler. 

But  the  Princess  was  quite  pale ; she  was 
dressed  in  black,  as  though  she  were  to  at- 
tend a funeral. 

‘•On  what  am  I thinking  at  this  mo- 
ment V’  asked  she  of  John,  who  at  the  same 
instant  opened  his  handkerchief,  and  was 
terribly  frightened  when  he  saw  the  horrid 
head  of  the  mountain-imp  within  it.  All 
the  spectators  shuddered  with  dread  at  tho 
sight;  and  the  Princess  sat  as  though  she 
were  petrified, — she  was  unable  to  utter  a 
tvord.  At  last,  however,  she  rose  from  her 
seat  and  gave  John  her  snow-white  hand; 
for  he  had  now  for  the  third  time  guessed 
her  thoughts  aright.  Without  looking  at 
anyone,  she  merely  said  the  words,  “You 
are  now  my  lord ; this  evening  we  will  hold 
the  wedding.” 

“Now  that  pleases  me,”  said  the  old 
King;  “and  so  it  shall  be.”  Then  the 
whole  assembly  shouted  “ Hurrah  !”  the 
military  band  played  through  the  streets, 
the  bells  rang,  and  the  confectioners  took 
their  little  sugar-work  figures  out  of  mourn* 
tug:  there  was  nothing  but  joy  in  the  town 

125 


/Bllmn-fianrlfr. 


Three  whole  roasted  oxen,  stuffed  with  ducki 
and  fowls,  were  carried  out  to  the  market- 
place, where  any  one  could  eat  of  them  and 
drink  wine  from  the  fountains.  Whoever 
bought  a roll  at  a baker’s  got  half-a-dozen 
plum-cakes  into  the  bargain. 

In  the  evening  the  whole  town  was  illu- 
minated ; the  soldiers  fired  off  cannons,  and 
the  boys  in  the  street  crackers ; everywhere 
was  eating  and  drinking  without  end ; while 
at  the  palace  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  danced 
together,  and  far  below  in  the  town  was 
heard  the  song : 

“ Now  let  us  be  merry,  and  dance  and  sing : 

Let’s  drink  to  the  health  of  our  good  old  king 
Now,  then,  pretty  lasses,  come  join  the  round, 
The  fiddles  are  playing,  the  tabors  sound  -, 

And  he  who’s  not  merry  to-night,  ha ! ha ! 

We’ll  soon  wake  him  up  with  a tra-la-la!” 

But  the  Princess  was  still  a witch,  and 
did  not  care  for  Jchn.  His  companion  knew 
this ; so  he  gave  him  three  feathers  out  of 
the  wings  of  the  swan,  and  a little  phial  with 
some  drops,  and  desired  him  to  have  a lath 


]t  /jIloni-CrEntlw. 


placed  near  the  bridal  bed.  Then  when  the 
Princess  had  retired  to  rest  he  was  to  give 
her  a gentle  push,  so  that  she  fell  into  the 
bath  ; and  then  he  was  to  hold  her  under  the 
water  three  several  times,  having  before- 
hand thrown  in  the  three  féathers  and  the 
drops.  After  this  the  Princess  would  be 
disenchanted,  and  would  love  him  very 
much. 

John  did  what  his  faithful  companion 
had  desirea  him:  ’tis  true,  the  Princess 
screamed  aloud  when  he  put  her  under 
water,  and  struggled  with  hands  and  feet. 
When  she  came  up  the  first  time  she  was 
like  a jet-black  swan,  with  fiery  eyes;  the 
second  time  she  was  changed  into  a white 
swan,  only  a black  ring  was  round  her  neck. 
John  now  said  a prayer,  and  held  the  bird 
under  water  for  the  third  time : immediately 
it  was  changed  into  the  most  beautiful  Prin-  , 
cess ; she  had  become  even  more  beautiful 
than  she  was  before,  and  thanked  her  young 
consort  with  tears  in  her  eyes  for  having 
freed  her  from  enchantment. 

The  following  morning  was  devoted  to  r©- 

7 


€lr?  Itllnm-frøbr. 


ceiving  the  visits  of  those  who  came  to  cot  • 
gratulate  the  newly  married  couple.  The 
King  appeared  with  the  rest  with  all  his 
court,  and  there  was  wassailing  and  rejoic- 
ing throughout  the  day. 

At  last  John’s  former  traveling-companion 
appeared  to  congratulate  him;  but  he  had 
his  staff  in  his  hand,  and  carried  the  knap- 
sack at  his  back.  John  went  to  meet  him, 
embraced  him  before  all  the  assembly,  and 
begged  him  pressingly  not  to  go  away,  but  to 
remain  with  him  for  ever,  that  he  might 
share  the  good  fortune  which  he  owed  to 
him  with  so  dear  a friend.  But  the  strangei 
shook  his  head  and  said,  “ My  good  John, 
that  cannot  be,  for  my  time  is  at  an  end ; 1 
have  but  paid  my  debt.  Do  you  remember 
the  dead  man  whom  wicked  persons  would 
not  allow  to  rest  peaceably  in  his  coffin  7 
You  gave  all  that  you  possessed  that  he 
might  find  rest  in  the  grave. — That  corpse 
am  I !” 

As  he  said  this  he  vanished. 

The  wedding-festivities  lasted  a whole 
month ; John  and  the  Princess  loved  each 
128 


Wyi  .frllotn-Ærnnflrr. 

other  dearly,  and  the  old  King  lived  many 
years  and  joyous  days  with  his  children,  and 
let  his  merry  grandchildren  ride  upon  hi? 
knee,  and  play  with  the  polished  sceptre. 
But  John  reigned  over  the  whole  land,  and 
became  at  last  a very  powerful  monarch. 


CJt  tølfin  3Hnutril. 


EYERAL  large  Lizards 
were  running  quickly  in- 
to the  cleft  of  an  old  tree 
they  could  understand  each 
other  perfectly,  for  they  all 
spoke  the  lizard  language. 

“ What  a noise  there  is  in 
the  old  Elfin  mound !”  said 
one  of  the  Lizards.  “ What 
a rumbling  and  uproar ! For 
tw  » nights  I nave  not  been  able  to  close  my 
130 


■dfjj f Clfin  jføottnil. 

eyes,  and  might  just  as  well  have  had  a 
toothache,  for  then  I certainly  should  not 
have  slept.” 

“There  is  a something  going  on  there,” 
said  the  other  Lizard.  “They  let  the  mound 
stand  on  four  red  poles  till  the  crowing  of 
the  cock,  to  have  it  thoroughly  aired ; and 
the  Elfin  damsels  have  learnt  new  dances,  in 
which  there  is  some  stamping.  A some- 
thing is  going  on,  I’m  sure.” 

“Yes;  I have  spoken  to  an  Earthworm 
of  my  acquaintance,”  said  the  third  Lizard. 
“The  Earthworm  came  direct  from  the 
mound,  where  day  and  night  he  had  been 
rummaging  about  in  the  ground.  He  had 
heard  a good  deal ; for  he  can  see  nothing, 
poor  wretch,  but  eaves-dropping  and  listen- 
ing he  understands  to  perfection.  Visitors 
are  expected  at  the  Elfin  mound;  visitors  of 
rank,  but  who  they  were,  the  Earthworm 
either  would  not  or  could  not  say.  All  the 
Jacks-o’-the-lantern  have  been  ordered  to 
prepare  a procession  by  torch-light ; and  all 
the  silver  and  gold,  of  which  there  is  plenty 

ill 


i 


Jn  the  Elfin  mound,  will  be  polished  and 
laid  in  the  moonshine.” 

“ But  who  can  the  strangers  be !”  said  all 
the  Lizards.  “What  can  be  going  on? 
Listen  ! what  a humming  and  buzzing  !” 

At  the  same  instant  the  Elfin  mound 
opened,  and  an  elderly  Elfin  damsel,  with- 
out a back,  but  for  the  rest  very  respectably 
dressed,  came  tripping  forth.  It  was  the 
old  Elfin  King’s  housekeeper ; she  was  dis- 
tantly related  to  him,  and  wore  an  amber 
heart  on  her  forehead.  Her  feet  were  so 
nimble — trip — trap — trip — trap  ! — how  she 
skipped  along,  right  away  to  the  moor  to 
the  Night-raven. 

“ You  will  be  invited  to  the  Elfin  mound, 
and  that  to-night,”  said  she.  “ But  would 
you  not  do  us  a great  favor,  and  take 
charge  of  the  invitations'?  As  you  do  not 
give  parties  yourself,  you  must  do  us  this 
service.  Strangers  of  high  rank  are  coming 
to  us  ; magicians  of  no  small  importance,  let 
me  tell  you ; and  so  the  old  Elfin  King  want« 

to  show  himself  off  to  advantage.” 

132 


ÆJje  élfin  ftlnnnit. 

*'  Who  is  to  be  invited  V*  asked  the  Night* 
raven. 

“Why,  to  the  grand  ball  everybody  may 
come;  men  even,  if  they  do  but  speak  in 
their  sleep,  or  are  able  to  do  something  in 
our  way.  But  the  principal  banquet  is  to 
be  very  select ; those  of  the  first  rank  only 
are  to  be  invited.  I have  had  a long  dis- 
cussion with  the  Elfin  King ; for,  according 
to  my  notions,  we  cannot  even  ask  ghosts. 
The  Sea-god  and  his  daughters  must  be  in- 
vited first ; ’tis  true,  they  don’t  like  much 
coming  on  dry  land,  but  they  will  have  pro- 
bably a wet  stone  to  sit  upon,  or  maybe 
something  better  still;  and  then,  I think, 
they  will  not  refuse  for- this  once.  We  must 
have  the  old  Mountain  Dwarfs  of  the  first 
class,  with  tails ; the  Elf  of  the  Brook,  and 
the  Brownie;  and  then,  I think,  we  must 
net  omit  the  Swart  Elf,  and  the  Skeleton 
Horse:  they  belong,  it  is  true,  to  the  cleigy, 
who  are  not  of  our  sort;  however,  ’tis  their 
office,  and  they  are,  morever,  nearly  related 
to  us  and  are  continually  paying  us  visits.’' 

133 


€§t  flfin  3$atrai 


“ Caw !”  said  the  Night-raven,  and  flew 
away  to  invite  the  company. 

The  Elfin  maidens  were  already  dancing 
on  the  Elfin  mound  : they  danced  with  long 
shawls,  woven  of  haze  and  moonshine ; and 
to  all  w:io  dke  this  sort  of  dancing,  it  seema 
pretty. 

In  the  centre  of  the  Elfin  mound  was  the 
great  hall,  splendidly  ornamented ; the  floor 
was  washed  with  moonshine,  and  the  walls 
were  rubbed  with  witches’  fat,  so  that  they 
shone  in  the  light  like  tulip-leaves.  In  the 
kitchen  there  were  a great  quantity  of  frogs 
among  the  dishes ; adders’  skins,  with  little 
children’s  fingers  inside ; salad  of  mushroom- 
seed  ; wet  mice’s  snouts  and  hemlock ; beer, 
from  the  brewery  of  the  old  Witch  of  the 
Moor ; sparkling  saltpetre  wine  from  a grave- 
cellar, — all  very  substantial  eating : rusty 
nails  and  church-window  glass  were  among 
the  delicacies  and  kick-shaws. 

The  Old  Elfin  King  had  his  golden  crown 
polished  with  pounded  slate-pencil.  It  was 
the  pencil  of  the  head-scholar;  and  to  obtain 
this  one  is  very  difficult  for  the  Elfin  King 
134 


Æjjt  i£lfin  jRlnnnii. 


They  hung  up  the  curtains  in  the  bed- 
chamber, and  fastened  them  with  adder 
spittle.  There  was,  indeed,  a humming 
and  a buzzing  in  the  Elfin  mound  ! 

“ Now  we  must  perfume  the  place  with 
singed  hair  and  pig’s  bristles;  and  then  1 
think  I shall  have  done  my  share  of  the 
ousiness,”  said  the  little  Elfin  damsel. 

“ Dear  papa,”  said  the  least  of  th< 
daughters,  “shall  I now  know  avIio  the  high 
visitors  are  7” 

“ Well  then,”  said  he,  “ I suppose  I must 
tell  you.  Two  of  my  daughters  are  to  show 
themselves  off,  in  order  to  get  married. 
Two  will  certainly  be  married.  The  age<i 
Mountain  Elf  of  Norway,  who  lives  in  thf 
old  Dovre-field,  and  possesses  many  craggy 
castles,  and  a gold-mine  too, — which  is  a 
better  thing  than  one  imagines, — is  coming 
here  with  his  two  sons ; and  they  are  to 
choose  themselves  wives.  The  hoary  Elf  is 
an  honest  old  Norwegian,  merry  and  straight- 
forward. I have  known  him  since  many  a 
long  day,  when  we  drank  together  to  better 
acquaintance,  and  good  fellowship.  H* 

13* 


CIib  ilfin  IjEtond. 


came  here  to  fetch  his  wife, — she  is  dead 
now, — who  was  the  daughter  of  the  Rock- 
King.  Oh,  how  I long  to  see  the  old  north- 
ern Elf ! His  sons,  people  say,  are  coarse, 
blustering  fellows ; but  maybe  one  wrongs 
them,  and  when  older  they  will  improve.” 

“And  when  will  they  come V ’ asked  his 
daughter. 

“ That  depends  on  wind  and  weather,’ 
said  the  Elfin  King.  “They  travel  eco- 
nomically ; they  will  come  here  by  water. 
I wish  they  would  go  through  Sweden ; but 
the  old  gentleman  has  no  inclination  that 
way.  He  does  not  keep  pace  with  the  tim<* ; 
and  that  I can’t  bear.” 

At  the  same  moment  two  Jacks-o’-the- 
.antern  came  hopping  in,  one  faster  than  the 
other,  and  for  that  reason  one  was  first. 

“ They’re  coming ! they’re  coming !”  cried 
they. 

“ Give  me  my  crown ; and  let  me  stand  in 
the  moonshine,”  said  the  Elfin  King. 

The  daughters  held  up  their  long  shawls 
and  bowed  to  the  earth. 

There  stood  the  hoary  Mountain  El£ 
136 


fll?  fllin  3&lnnn&. 


with  a crown  of  hardened  icicles  and  pol 
isliod  fir-cones  on  his  head,  and  wrapped 
up  in  a mantle  of  fur  and  boots  of  the  same 
His  sons,  on  the  contrary,  went  with  open 
throats,  for  they  disdained  the  cold. 

“ Is  that  a mound?”  asked  the  lesser  of 
the  youths,  pointing  to  Elfin-home.  “In 
Norway  we  call  such  a thing  a hole.” 

“Boy,”  said  the  father,  “ a monnd  rises 
upwards,  and  a hole  goes  inwards.  Have 
yon  no  eyes  in  your  head?” 

Now  they  went  in  to  the  Elfin  mound, 
where  there  was  very  choice  company,  cer- 
tainly ; and  had  come  together  with  such 
speed,  one  might  have  thought  they  had 
been  borne  thither  on  the  breeze ; however, 
the  arrangements  for  every  one  were  neat 
and  pretty.  The  sea-folk  sat  at  table  in 
large  water-butts ; and  they  said  they  felt 
just  as  if  they  were  at  home.  All  observed 
good  manners  at  the  table,  except  the  two 
little  Norwegian  Mountain  Elves,  who  put 
their  feet  on  the  board,  for  they  thought  that 
all  they  did  was  becoming. 

“Take  your  feet  away  from  the  plates,” 

M 137 


Che  (Blfin  Mwé. 


Baid  the  old  Elf ; and  then  they  •.  beyed,  al» 
though  not  immediately.  They  tickled  the 
ladies  next  them  with  fir-cones ; then  they 
pulled  off  their  boots,  to  be  more  at  ease,  and 
gave  them  to  the  ladies  to  hold  for  them ; 
but  their  father  was  very  different.  He  told 
about  the  proud  Norwegian  rocks,  and  of 
the  waterfalls,  which,  covered  with  foam, 
dashed  downwards,  raging  and  roaring  like 
thunder ; he  told  about  the  salmon,  that 
leaps  up  against  the  falling  waters,  when 
the  Spirit  of  the  flood  plays  on  her  golden 
harp.  He  related  about  the  clear  winter 
nights,  when  the  bells  on  the  sledges  jingle, 
and  the  youths  run  with  flaming  torches 
over  the  smooth  ice,  which  is  so  transparent 
that  they  could  see  how  affrighted  the  fishes 
were  beneath  their  feet.  He,  indeed,  could 
recount  so  that  one  saw  and  heard  the  things 
he  described  ; when,  huzza  ! all  of  a sudden, 
the  old  Elf  gave  one  of  the  Elfin  damsels  a 
smacking  kiss ; and  yet  they  were  not  even 
distantly  related. 

The  Elfin  maidens  were  now  to  dance, 
simple  as  well  as  stamping  dances ; and  then 
138 


Æljt  (glfia  3lnnnb. 


came  the  most  difficult  one  of  all,  the  so* 
called  “ Dance  oat  the  dance.”  Confound 
it ! their  legs  grew  so  long,  one  did  not  know 
which  was  the  beginning  nor  which  was  the 
end— one  could  not  distinguish  legs  from 
arms,  all  was  twirling  about  in  the  air  like 
saw-dust;  and  they  went  whizzing  round  to 
such  a degree  that  the  Skeleton  Horse  grew 
quite  sick,  and  was  obliged  to  leave  the 
table. 

“ Brrrrr !”  said  the  grey-headed  Elf, 
“ that’s  a regular  Highland  fling,  as  it’s 
called.  But  what  can  they  do  besides  spin- 
ning about  like  a whirlwind?” 

“ That  you  shall  see,”  said  the  King,  call- 
ing the  youngest  of  his  daughters.  She  was 
as  delicate  and  fair  as  moonlight,  and  was 
the  daintiest  of  all  the  sisters.  She  put  a 
white  wand  in  her  mouth,  and  vanished. 
That  was  her  art 

But  the  old  Mountain  Elf  said,  “ This  was 
an  art  he  should  not  at  all  like  in  his  wife, 
nor  did  he  think  his  sons  would  either.” 

The  other  could  walk  beside  her  own  sel£ 

139 


€jje  (Elfin  3Hnttni. 


as  though  she  had  a shadow,  which  is  a 
thing  Elves  never  have. 

The  third  one’s  talent  was  of  a very  differ« 
ent  kind ; she  had  learned  in  the  brewery 
of  the  Witch  of  the  Moor,  and  she  knew  how 
to  lard  alder-wood  with  glow-worms. 

“She  would  make  a good  housewife,” 
said  the  Mountain  Elf,  blinking,  for  he  did 
not  at  all  like  drinking  so  much. 

Then  came  the  fourth  Elfin  maiden  ; she 
had  a large  golden  harp,  and  when  she 
touched  the  first  string,  every  body  lifted  up 
the  left  foot,  for  the  Elves  are  all  left-sided ; 
and  when  she  touched  the  next,  everybody 
was  forced  to  do  whatever  she  pleased. 

“ That  is  a dangerous  damsel,”  said  the 
Mountain  Elf;  but  both  his  sons  went  out 
of  the  Elfin  mound,  for  they  were  tired  of  it. 

“ What  can  the  next  daughter  do !”  asked 
the  old  Elf. 

“ I have  learned  to  love  the  Norwegians,” 
said  she ; “ and  I will  not  marry  unless  I can 
go  to  Norway.” 

But  the  youngest  of  the  sisters  whispered 
into  the  old  Elfin’s  ear,  “ She  only  says  that 
140 


(Elfin  Blnnnlr. 


because  sne  has  heard,  in  an  old  Norwegian 
rhyme,  that  when  even  the  world  is  at  an 
end,  the  rocks  of  Norway  will  stand  firm; 
and  that’s  the  reason  she  wants  to  go  there, 
for  she  is  greatly  afraid  of  death.” 

“ Ho  ! ho  !”  said  the  old  Elf;  “that’s  the 
way  the  wind  blows,  is  it ! But  what  can  tho 
seventh  and  last  do?” 

“The  sixth  comes  before  the  seventh,” 
said  the  Elfin  King,  for  he  knew  how  to 
count ; but  the  sixth  at  first  would  not  come 
forward. 

I can  do  nothing  except  tell  people  the 
truth,”  said  she.  “ No  one  troubles  about 
me,  and  I have  enough  to  do  to  get  my 
shroud  ready.” 

Now  came  the  seventh  and  last.  And 
what  could  she  do?  She  could  tell  as 
many  fairy-tales  as  she  chose. 

“ Here  are  my  five  fingers,”  said  the  old 
Mountain  Elf.  “ For  each  one  tell  me  a 
story.” 

And  the  Elfin  maiden  took  hold  of  him 
by  the  wrist,  and  he  laughed  till  he  was 
almost  choked  ; and  when  she  came  to  the 

HI 


Æljt  (Ølffn  Jenani 


finger  that  wore  a golden  ring,  just  as  if  it 
knew  that  matrimony  was  going  on,  the  old 
Elf  said,  “ Hold  fast  what  you  have  ! The 
hand  is  yours  ! I will  take  you  myself  to 
wife !” 

And  the  Elfin  maiden  said  that  the  fairy- 
tale to  the  ring-finger  and  to  the  little  finger 
were  wanting. 

“ Oh,  we’ll  hear  them  in  winter,”  said  the 
old  Elf;  “and  about  the  fir-tree  too,  and 
about  the  birch,  and  the  gifts  of  the  wood- 
nymphs,  and  about  the  crackling  frost. 
You  shall  have  opportunities  enough  of  tell- 
ing stories,  for  no  one  understands  that 
yonder.  And  there  we  will  sit  in  our  rocky 
dwelling,  where  the  pine-torch  is  burning, 
and  where  we  drink  mead  out  of  the  golden 
horns  of  the  old  Norwegian  kings;  I got 
some  as  a present  from  the  Water-spirit. 
And  when  we  are  sitting  so  together,  Garbo 
will  come  to  pay  us  a visit,  and  he  will  sing 
to  y3u  all  the  songs  of  the  mountain  maid- 
ens. How  merry  we  shall  be  ! The  salmon 
will  leap  in  the  waterfall,  and  dash  against 
the  walls  of  rock ; but  he  will  not  be  able  to 
142 


<KJre  <£lfin  $nnn&. 


come  in  to  us,  after  all ! Yes,  yes;  one  lead* 
a happy,  comfortable  life  in  dear  old  Nor- 
way ! But  where  are  the  boys  ?” 

Where  were  they  ? Why,  they  were  run- 
ning about  the  fields,  blowing  out  the  wills- 
o’-the  wisp  that  were  coming  quite  orderly 
to  have  a procession  with  torches. 

“ What’s  all  this  harum-scarum  about?” 
said  the  old  Elf.  “ I have  taken  a step-mo- 
ther for  you  ; methinks  now  you  may  choose 
a wife  too.” 

But  they  said  they  liked  spcochifying  and 
boon  companionship  better,  and  had  no  taste 
lor  matrimony ; and  so  they  made  speeches, 
tossed  off  their  glasses,  and  turned  them 
topsy-turvy,  to  show  that  they  were  quite 
empty.  They  then  pulled  off  their  coats, 
and  lay  down  on  the  table  to  sleep.  But 
the  old  Elf  danced  round  the  room  with  his 
young  bride,  and  exchanged  boots  with  her; 
for  that  is  much  more  genteel  than  exchang 
ing  rings. 

“ The  cock  is  crowing !”  said  the  elderly 
damsel  who  attended  to  the  housekeeping. 

143 


■®jit  (Ølfin  jftlnmiL 


I 


“We  must  now  bolt  the  shutters,  lest  the 
sun  should  spoil  our  complexions.” 

And  then  the  mound  closed. 

The  Lizards  ran  about  up  and  down  the 
;left  tree,  and  one  said  to  the  other,  “ How 
much  I like  the  old  Mountain  Elf  !” 

“ I like  the  merry  boys  better,”  said  the 
Earthworm ; but  then  he  could  not  see,  poor 
wretch ! 


114 


Cjjt  ^Iqing  Crunk 


HERE  was  once,  in  a 
town,  which  it  would 
now.  perhaps  be  hard 
to  find  on  the  map, 
a merchant,  wiio 
was  so  rich  that  he 
could  have  paved 
the  whole  street, 
and  almost  a little  alley  into  the  bargain, 
with  silver  com ; but  he  did  not  do  it : he 
knew  better  what  to  do  with  his  money ; 
and  when  he  spent  a shilling  he  gained  a 
crown,  so  good  a trader  was  lie ; and he 


died. 

His  son  inherited  all  his  money.  But  he 

to  * 1*5 


€1 ft  /Itjing  tank. 


led  a merry  life,  went  every  evening  iO  tha 
masquerade,  made  kites  of  bank-notes,  and 
took  guineas  instead  of  stones,  to  play  at 
Duck-and-Drake  with  on  the  lake- 

It  was,  therefore,  no  wonder  if  the  money 
began  to  disappear,  which  it  very  soon  did  ; 
so  that  at  last  he  had  only  two-pence  in  his 
pocket,  and  no  clothing  but  a pair  of  slippers 
and  an  old  dressing-gown.  His  friends  did 
not  trouble  themselves  about  him  any  more, 
now  that  they  could  not  even  walk  across 
the  street  with  him ; but  one  of  these,  who 
was  a good-natured  fellow  and  had  a kind 
heart,  sent  him  an  old  trunk,  and  said, 
“ Pack  up  your  things,  and  be  off!” 

That  was  all  very  well,  but  he  had  no- 
thing to  pack  up,  so  he  got  into  the  trunk 
himself. 

’Twas  a droll  sort  of  a trunk!  As  soon 
as  one  pressed  the  lock,  it  could  fly : the 
merchant’s  son  did  so;  and,  halloa  ! up  flew 
the  trunk  with  him,  straight  up  the  chim- 
ney, and  away  into  the  clouds,  farther  and 
farther  off  The  bottom  cracked,  and  he 
was  very  uneasy;  lor  if  the  bottom  had 
14fi 


(El/r  /Iqing  <Enrak. 


given  way,  a pretty  tumble  he  would  hav« 
had  ! But  nothing  of  the  sort  happened. 

Well,  in  this  way  he  reached  Turkey 
He  hid  the  trunk  in  a wood,  under  the  dry 
leaves,  and  then  went  towards  the  town , 
for  this  he  could  very  well  do,  as  among  the 
Turks  every  body  walked  about  in  dressing- 
gown  and  slippers. 

Now  on  his  way  to  the  town,  he  met  a 
nurse  with  a little  child.  “ 1 say,  nurse,” 
said  he,  “ what  castle  is  that  yonder  with 
high  windows,  just  outside  the  walls  ?” 

“The  King’s  daughter  lives -there,”  said 
she.  “ It  has  been  foretold  that  she  will  be- 
come very  unhappy  on  account  of  a lover; 
and  so  no  one  dare  come  near  her  when  the 
King  and  Ciueen  are  not  present.” 

“ Thank  you,”  said  the  merchant’s  son  ; 
and  he  went  out  into  the  wood,  seated  him- 
self in  his  trunk,  flew  up  to  the  roof,  and 
crept  through  the  window  to  the  Princess’s 
apartments. 

She  lay  on  a sofa  and  slept.  She  was  so 
beautiful  that  the  son  of  the  merchant  could 
not  help  giving  her  a kiss.  This  awok« 

14* 


/Ipg  Ærtmk. 


her,  nor  was  she  a little  afraid ; but  he  said 
he  was  a messenger  sent  by  the  Prophet  of 
the  Turks,  who  had  come  to  her  through 
the  air  to  honor  her  with  his  presence  ; and 
this  satisfied  her. 

So  he  sat  down,  and  told  her  stories  about 
her  eyes : these  were  the  most  beautiful  dark 
lakes ; and  thoughts  swam  about  in  them 
like  mermaids.  And  he  told  her  a story 
about  her  forehead : this  was  a mountain  of 
snow,  with  glorious  vaulted  halls.  And 
then  he  told  her  about  the  storks  and  the 
sweet  little  children. 

They  were  such  pretty  stories  ; and  then 
he  made  the  Princess  an  offer,  and  she  im- 
mediately said  “Yes.” 

“ But  you  must  come  here  on  Saturday,” 
said  she.  “ The  King  and  the  Queen  are 
coming  to  me  to  tea  at  six,  as  the  clock 
strikes ; they  will  be  so  glad  to  hear  that  I 
am  to  marry  a messenger  of  the  Prophet  * 
But  taxe  care  to  have  a very  pretty  fairy- 
tale to  relate;  for  my  parents  like  that 
above  any  thing.  My  mother  likes  it  to  be 
very  moral,  and  very  aristocratic;  and  my 
148 


f ll?  .filling  Ærrnik. 


\ 


lather  likes  it  to  be  merry,  so  that  one  may 
nave  a hearty  laugh.” 

“Very  well;  I shall  bring  no  other  bridal 
gift  than  a fairy-tale,”  said  he. 

And  so  they  parted ; but  before  he  went, 
the  Princess  gave  him  a very  rich  sabre, 
the  sheath  of  which  was  studded  with  gold ; 
and  a very  acceptable  present  it  was. 

Now  he  flew  off,  bought  himself  a new 
dressing-gown,  and  a few  hours  afterwards 
he  was  sitting  out  in  the  wood,  composing 
the  fairy-tale,  which  was  to  be  ready  by 
Saturday  evening ; and  composing,  let  me 
tell  you,  is  no  easy  matter. 

But  at  last  it  was  ready ; and  Saturday 
too  was  come.  The  King,  the  Queen,  and 
all  the  court  drank  tea  that  evening  at  the 
Princess’s ! The  suitor  was  extremely  well 
-eceived. 

“Will  you  relate  us  a fairy-tale?”  said 
the  Queen  when  tea  was  over ; “ one  that 
ha/  a profound  meaning,  and  that  is  in- 
gtr  active — ” 

“ Yes,  and  let  it  be  one  that  is  laughable 
too,”  said  the  King. 


I 49 


/hjing  €rnnk. 

“"Ves,  certainly,’’  said  he,  and  began  hia 
tale;  and  now  you  must  listen  very  atten- 
tively to  the  story  about 


€1je  SSuhMb  nf  Maltes. 

There  was  once  upon  a time  a bundle  of 
Matches,  and  they  were  very  proud  of  their 
high  descent.  Their  genealogical  tree — that 
is  to  say,  the  great  fir  tree,  of  which  each  of 
them  was  a chip — had  been  once  a very 
ntately  old  tree  in  the  forest.  But  now 
these  Matches  lay  on  the  shell  between  a 
flint  and  steel  and  an  old  iron  saucepan, 
and  to  them  they  told  most  wonderful  stories 
about  their  younger  days. 

“ Ah,  while  we  were  still  on  the  green 
bough,  then  were  we  indeed  on  the  green 
iough !”  said  they.  “Pearl  tea  morning 
and  evening, — that  was  the  dew;  the  sun 
shone  on  us  the  whole  day,  when  he  did 
shine ; and  all  the  little  birds  were  obliged  to 
amuse  us  with  many  congs  or  touching  sto- 
150 


€\)t  ShiiMe  af  jftlntrljrB. 


ricR.  We  could  easily  see  that  we  wera 
rich ; for  the  other  trees  were  dressed  in 
green  only  in  summer,  whilst  our  family 
possessed  the  means  of  wearing  green  both 
winter  and  summer.  But  the  wood-cutters 
came,  that  was  the  Great  Revolution,  and 
our  family  was  divided  and  split  up : he 
whom  we  looked  upon  as  our  chief  support 
got  a place  as  a mainmast  in  a large  ship, 
that  could  sail  round  the  world  if  it  liked  ; 
and  the  other  branches  were  placed  in  va- 
rious situations:  and  now  our  vocation  is  to 
give  light;  and  therefore  we,  people  of  high 
pedigroe  as  we  are,  have  come  here  into  the 
kitchen.” 

“Ah  ! my  fate  has  been  very  different,” 
said  the  iron  saucepan,  near  which  the  match- 
es lay.  “ From  the  very  moment  that  I came 
into  the  world  I’ve  been  scoured  and  boiled, 
oh,  how  often  ! I always  side  with  the  re- 
spectable and  conservative;  and  belong,  in 
reality,  to  the  very  first  in  the  house.  My 
sole  pleasure  is  to  lie  down,  nice  and  clean, 
after  dinner,  and  to  have  a little  rational 
talk  with  my  comrades ; but  if  I except  th« 


€tj t 3knMs  nf  MM}m. 


bucket,  that  now  and  then  goes  into  th« 
yard,  we  live  here  in  a very  retired  and 
quiet  life.  Our  only  newsmonger  is  the 
coal-scuttle ; but  he  talks  so  demagogically 
about  ‘ the  people’  and  ‘ the  government,’ 
that  a short  time  ago  an  old  earthen  pot  was 
so  shocked  at  his  conversation  that  it 
dropped  down  and  broke  into  a thousand 
pieces.  Oh,  he  belongs  to  the  Radicals,  let 
me  tell  you.” 

“ Now  you  are  talking  too  much,”  said 
the  Flint,  and  it  struck  against  the  steel  so 
that  the  sparks  flew  out. 

“ Shall  we  not  have  a merry  evening?” 

“ Yes ; let  us  talk  about  who  is  of  highest 
rank  and  most  genteel,”  said  the  Matches. 

“ No;  I have  no  wish  to  talk  about  my- 
self,” said  the  earthenware  Dish ; “ let  us 
have  a refined  and  sentimental  evening. 
We  will  all  tell  things  we  have  seen  and 
gone  through.  I will  begin.  I will  relate 
a tale  of  every-day  life  : one  can  fancy  one’s 
self  so  well  in  similar  situations,  and  that  is 
so  interesting. 

152 


€Ije  33nnMe  nf  jTfintrjjts. 


“ On  the  shores  of  the  Baltic,  beneath  the 
Danish  beeches  ” 

“ That  is  a splendid  beginning  !”  said  al 
the  Plates ; “ that  will  certainly  be  a very 
interesting  story  !” 

“ There,  in  a quiet  family,  I passed  my 
vouth  : the  furniture  was  polished,  the  flooi 
washed,  and  clean  muslin  curtains  were 
put  up  every  fortnight.” 

“ What  an  interesting  story  you  are  tell- 
ing us  !”  said  the  Duster.  “ One  hears  in 
a moment  that  it  is  a young  lady  who 
speaks,  such  an  air  of  purity  breathes  in 
every  word.” 

“ Yes,  that  one  does  feel  indeed,”  said 
the  Water-pail,  much  moved,  and  in  such 
broken  accents  that  there  was  quite  a splash 
on  the  floor. 

And  the  Dish  went  on  with  the  story,  and 
the  end  was  as  good  as  the  beginning. 

All  the  Plates  rattled  with  delight;  and 
<he  Duster  took  some  green  parsley  off  the 
dresser,  and  crowned  the  Dish,  for  he  knew 
this  would  annoy  the  others  ; and,  thought 

1S3 


3JuuM*  nf  BlntrljBS. 

he,  if  I crown  her  to-day,  she  will  crown 
me  to-morrow. 

“ Now  let  us  dance !”  said  the  Tongs,  be- 
ginning immediately;  and,  good  heavens, 
how  she  could  fling  her  leg  up  in  the  air, 
almost  as  high  and  as  gracefully  as  Made- 
moiselle Ellsler ! The  old  Arm-chair-cover- 
ing in  the  corner  burst  at  the  sight. 

“Am  I not  to  be  crowned  now?”  said  the 
Tongs ; and  so  forthwith  she  got  a laurel- 
wreath  too. 

“ What  a low  set !”  said  the  Matches  to 
themselves. 

It  was  now  the  Tea-urn’s  turn  to  sing 
something;  but  she  said  she  had  taken  cold, 
indeed,  she  could  only  sing  when  excited; 
but  that  was  nothing  but  pride;  for  she 
would  only  sing  when  standing  on  the 
drawing-room  table  among  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen. 

Behind,  in  the  window,  sat  an  old  Pen, 
that  the  maid  used  to  write  with.  There 
was  nothing  remarkable  about  it,  except 
that  it  was  too  deeply  immersed  in  ink; 
but  that  was  just  what  it  wes  proud  of,  and 

154 


€tj?  93nnMr  of  jftlntrljfs. 


made  a fuss  about.  “If  the  tea-urn  v 11 
not  sing,”  it  said,  “ why,  she  may  leave  it 
alone:  but  there  is  a nightingale  in  a cage; 
she  can  sing.  It  is  true  she  has  been  taught 
nothing.  However,  this  evening  we  will 
speak  ill  of  nobody.” 

“ I find  it  most  improper,”  said  the  Tea- 
kettle, who  was  kitchen  chorus-singer,  and 
step-brother  to  theTea-um — “ I find  it  most 
improper  that  such  a foreign  bird  should  be 
patronized.  Is  that  patriotic?  I will  ask 
the  Coal-scuttle,  and  let  him  decide  the 
matter.” 

“ As  to  me,  I am  vexed,”  said  the  latter ; 
“ thoroughly  vexed  ! Is  this  the  way  to 
spend  the  evening1  Would  it  not  be  far 
better  to  turn  the  whole  house  upside-down, 
and  to  establish  a new  and  natural  order  of 
things?  In  this  way  each  one  would  find 
his  proper  place,  and  I would  undertake  to 
direct  the  change.  That  would  be  some- 
thing like  fun  for  us.” 

“ Yes,  let  us  kick  up  a row !”  cried  all  at 
once. 

At  the  same  moment  the  door  opened : it 


was  the  house-maid ! All  were  .silent ; not 
one  dared  to  utter  a word.  Yet  there  was 
not  a single  grease-pot  but  knew  what  he 
could  do,  and  of  what  consequence  he  was. 

“Yes,  if  I had  chosen,”  thought  they, 
“fine  work  there  would  have  been  this 
evening  \” 

The  maid  took  the  matches  to  get  a light, 
dless  us,  how  they'  sputtered,  and  then  stood 
all  in  a blaze ! 

“Now  may  every  body  see,”  thought 
they,  “ that  we  are  first  in  rank.  How  we 
shine ! What  lustre  ! What  light !” — and 
so  saying,  they  went  out. 


“That  was  a capital  tale,”  said  the 
Queen  ; “ I felt  as  if  I were  in  the  kitchen 
the  whole  time.  Yes,  ycu  certainly  shall 
have  our  daughter.” 

“To  be  sure,”  said  the  King;  “next 
Monday  you  shall  have  ciur  daughter.” 

All  was  fixed  for  the  wedding ; and  the 
evening  before  the  whole  town  was  illumi- 


€{jt  /Iqing  tank. 

nated  : nuts  and  cakes  were  flung  among 
the  people ; and  the  boys  in  the  street  stood 
upon  tiptoe,  and  shouted  “ Hurrah  !”  It 
was  magnificent ! 

“ I must  also  do  something  to  give  still 
greater  splendor  to  the  festival,”  said  the 
merchant’s  son ; and  he  bought  rockets, 
squibs,  crackers,  and  all  imaginable  fire- 
works, seated  himself  in  his  trunk,  and  flew 
up  with  them  into  the  air. 

Hurrah  ! that  was  a sight!  how  it  blazed  ! 

Every  Turk,  when  he  beheld  it,  gave 
such  a jump,  that  his  slippers  flew  over  his 
ears ; for  an  appearance  in  the  air  like  this 
they  had  never  seen  before.  They  now 
comprehended  that  it  really  must  be  a mes- 
senger of  the  Prophet  who  was  to  have  the 
Princess. 

As  soon  as  the  merchant’s  son  with  his 
trunk  was  again  in  the  wood,  he  said  to 
himself,  “ I think  I’ll  just  go  into  the  town, 
and  hear  how  it  looked.”  And  very  natu- 
ral it  was  that  he  wished  to  know. 

Well  to  be  sure ! What  stories  the  peo- 
ple told ! Each  one  whom  he  asked  had 

157 


€k  /lijing  tat 

»een  it  in  his  way ; but  they  all  had  thought 
it  superb. 

“I  saw  the  Prophet  himself,”  said  one; 
“ he  had  eyes  like  gleaming  stars,  and  a 
beard  like  foaming  water.” 

“ He  flew  by  in  a mantle  of  fire,”  said 
another.  “ The  dearest  little  cherubs  peeped 
out  from  beneath  its  folds.” 

True  enough  he  heard  the  most  wonder- 
ful things ; and  on  the  following  day  he  was 
to  celebrate  his  wedding. 

He  now  went  back  to  the  wood  to  get 
into  his  trunk — but  where  was  it? 

The  trunk  was  burnt.  A spark  from  the 
fireworks  had  fallen  into  it  unobserved,  had 
set  fire  to  it;  and  there  the  trunk  lay  in 
ashes ! Now  the  poor  merchant’s  6on  could 
fly  no  longer,  and  was  unable  to  get  to  his 
betrothed. 

She  stood  the  whole  day  on  the  roof 
waiting  for  him ; she  is  waiting  there  still. 
As  for  him,  he  goes  about  the  world  telling 
stories ; but  they  are  not  so  amusing  as  the 
one  of  the  Bundle  of  Matches. 


CitlU  Big!* 


nUf BL&T1D  »T  MART  HOWITf 


vn  little  Viggo  wilt  thou  ride  on  horseback’ 
Then  seat  thee  on  my  knee,  my  first,  ray  he* 
I am,  like  thee,  a child  in  soul  and  body, 

Then  let  us  play  till  thou  must  go  to  rest. 


See,  I will  be  thy  playmate  as  thou  wiliest; 

I will  forget  my  tears,  my  heart-wrung  sigh*. 
Let  me  upon  thy  rosy  cheeks  shower  kisses, 

And  let  me  gaae  into  thy  dear,  brown  eye*. 


Now  let  mo  see  how  tall  thou  art,  my  jewel . 

—And  what  a soft  round  little  hand  is  thine! 
Sweet  smiles  are  nestling  in  each  lovely  dimple. 

And  O,  thy  mouth  is  eweet,  thou  dovr  of  mine 

149 


littfc  ffiggn. 


Jfiach  little  flower  thou  lovest  as  thy  brother, 

And  as  a friend  thou  tell’st  it  that  and  this ; 

The  whole  wide  world  to  thee  is  in  thy  mother. 
And  on  her  knee  thou  lindest  Eden’s  bliss. 

Come,  I will  tell  thee  now  a pretty  story, 

All  in  this  twilight  of  the  eventide, 

Will  sing  a low,  sweet  song  until  thou  slumberest 
My  little  Viggo,  my  delight  and  piide! 

Perhaps  when  thou  art  older,  my  beloved, 

And  I have  journeyed  to  the  land  of  shade, 

When  the  green  sods  are  piled  above  my  coffin, 
Then  thou  may’st  sing  the  low,  sad  songs  I made— 

May’st  think  of  her  who  oft  and  oft  has  borne  the* 
Within  her  arms,  as  loving  mothers  do ; — 

The  world  it  will  forget  me  and  my  singing, 

And  how  I loved!  wilt  thou  forget  them  tos ) 


IM 


LITTLE  ELL1E. 


2 3i  ITi  W B ?jp  1?  j!  ©s 


NEW  YORK: 

JOHN  B.  ALDEN,  PUBLISHER, 

1885. 


Little  Ellis 7 

The  Tindrb-Boi  ........  34 

The  Wicked  Kino  - * • . 53 

The  Resolute  Leaden  Soldier  ...»  bf> 

The  Garden  of  Paradise  • . . . . . 71 

The  Shepherdess  and  the  Chimney-Sweep  ...  105 

Little  Ida’s  Flowers  - ....  • 117 

The  Daisy  ......  * 13# 

New  Year’s  tvs  , * 14* 


'Si 


PART  L 


HERE  was  one« 
upon  a time  a 
young  woman,  and 
she  was  so  kind, 
so  sweet-tempered, 
that  every  body  loved 
her.  Among  the  rest 
there  was  an  old  witch 
who  lived  near  where 
*she  dwelt,  and  with 
whom  she  was  a great  favorite.  One  day 


7 


liillt  (Elite. 


she  went  to  the  old  witch,  and  said  to  her : 
“ I would  give  anything  to  have  a nice  little 
child  of  my  own : do  but  tell  me  how  to  ac- 
complish my  wish  !” 

“ Oh ! we’ll  soon  manage  that !”  replied 
the  old  witch.  “ Look  ye  here  at  this  barley- 
corn ! It  is  not  like  those  that  grow  in  the 
fields,  or  what  the  fowls  are  fed  with.  This 
you  must  plant  in  a flower-pot,  and  then 
wait  and  see  what  will  happen.” 

“A  thousand  thanks!”  said  the  other, 
putting  some  silver  in  the  witch’s  hand. 
She  then  went  home  and  planted  the  barley- 
corn as  the  old  woman  had  told  her.  A 
beautiful  large  flower  soon  shot  up  out  of 
the  flower-pot,  but  its  leaves  were  all  closed 
like  buds  that  were  soon  to  open. 

“What  a beautiful  flower!”  said  the  wife, 
at  the  same  time  kissing  the  red  and  yellow 
leaves;  but  scarcely  had  she  pressed  her 
lips  on  the  flower,  when  there  was  a loud 
report,  and  the  calix  opened.  She  now  saw 
that  it  was  a real  tulip,  and  in  the  middle 
of  the  cup  sat,  on  the  still  green  seed-stalk, 
a charming  little  maiden,  so  debcate  and 
8 


little  i£Ilie. 


iovcly,  and  yet  that  was  only  an  inch  high 
on  which  account  she  gave  her  the  name  of 
“ Ellie.”* 

She  made  the  baby  a cradle  out  of  a 
polished  walnut-shell,  gave  her  bine  violets 
as  mattress,  and  a rose-leaf  for  counterpane. 
In  this  cradle  little  Ellie  slept  at  night;  by 
day  she  played  on  the  table.  Here  a plate 
full  of  water  was  placed,  surrounded  by  a 
garland  of  flowers  ihat  dipped  their  stems 
in  the  water : in  the  middle,  a large  tulip- 
leaf  was  swimming,  and  on  this  Ellie  was 
to  sit,  and  to  sail  from  one  side  of  the  plate 
to  the  other;  and  two  white  horse-hairs 
served  as  oars  to  row  her  boat  with.  All 
this  looked  exceedingly  pretty;  besides, 
Ellie  could  sing,  and  with  so  sweet  a voice 
that  the  like  nobody  ever  had  heard. 

• This  tale  U called  “ Ellise  ” in  the  original ; a 
name  given  to  the  beautiful  daughters  of  the  fairy- 
people  in  the  mythology  of  the  North.  As,  however, 
to  the  English  reader  the  word  would  not  have  con- 
veyed the  original  idea  of  a diminutive  being,  I pre- 
ferred giving  the  story  the  title  I have. — I'hs  Tram* 
urn. 

• 


little  dille. 


One  night,  as  she  lay  in  her  nice  little 
bed,  an  ugly,  yellow  toad  hopped  in  through 
the  broken  window-pane.  The  creature 
was  large  and  ugly,  and  jumped  right  upon 
he  table  where  Ellie  lay"  asleep  under  the 
iose-leaf. 

“ Why  that  would  be  a pretty  wife  for 
my  son,”  said  the  toad;  then  it  seized  with 
its  mouth  the  nutshell  in  which  Ellie  was, 
and  hopped  with  it  through  the  window 
into  the  garden. 

Here  was  a large  piece  of  water,  but  the 
banks  were  marshy ; and  there  the  toad 
and  her  son  lived.  Faugh  ! how  ugly  the 
son  was!  all  spotted  with  green  and  yellow, 
just  like  his  mother ; and  all  he  had  to  say 
when  he  saw  the  pretty  little  maiden  in 
the  nutshell  was,  “ Croak ! Cr-rr-oa-oa-k  ! 
Cr-r-r-oak !” 

“Don’t  speak  so  loud,”  said  his  mother: 
“ If  you  do,  she  may  wake  up  and  escape, 
for  she  is  lighter  than  swans’  down.  We 
will  take  her  out  on  the  river  and  put  her 
on  the  leaf  of  a water-lily  ; to  her  that  wil 
be  a large  island ; and  thence  she  cannot 
10 


tittlf  (Eilif. 


escape;  and  we,  meanwhile,  will  build  a 
festal  hall  below  in  the  mud,  where  you  two 
shall  live  together.” 

Innumerable  plants  were  growing  in  the 
water,  with  their  broad  green  leaves  looking 
as  though  they  floated  on  the  stream.  The 
one  that  grew  farthest  off  was  at  the  same 
time  the  largest,  and  thither  the  old  toad 
swam,  and  set  the  walnut-shell  with  the 
little  maiden  upon  it. 

Poor  little  Ellie  awoke  early  on  the 
following  morning;  and  when  she  looked 
about  her  and  saw  where  she  was,  that 
her  new  dwelling  was  surrounded  with 
water,  and  that  there  was  no  possible  way 
by  which  she  could  get  to  land,  she  began 
to  weep  bitterly. 

The  old  toad  sat,  meanwhile,  in  the 
marsh,  and  decorated  the  hall  with  reeds 
and  the  leaves  of  the  water-lily,  so  that  it 
might  look  nice  for  her  future  daughter-in- 
law  ; and  then,  in  company  with  her  fright- 
ful son,  she  swam  to  the  island  lily-leaf, 
where  Ellie  was.  They  wanted  to  fetch 
her  pretty  little  bed,  that  it  might  at  once  b* 

ll 


littti  cSIlit. 


placed  in  the  chamber  before  Ellie  herseh 
came  there. 

The  old  toad  bowed  most  politely  to  hei 
in  the  water,  at  the  same  time  that  she  in- 
troduced her  son  with  the  words — “Here 
you  behold  my  son ; he  is  to  be  youi 
husband;  and  you  both  can  live  togethei 
delightfully  down  below  there  in  the 
mud !” 

“ Cr-oa-oa-oa-k ! Cr-oa-oa-oa-k  ! Breckke- 
Kek!”  was  all  the  bridegroom  could  find  to 
say  in  reply. 

On  this  they  both  took  the  charming 
little  bed  and  swam  away  with  it;  but 
Ellie  sat  alone  on  the  leaf  and  cried,  for  she 
could  not  bear  to  live  with  the  ugly  toad  of 
a mamma,  and  still  less  to  have  her  hideous 
son  for  a husband.  The  little  fishes  that 
swam  below  in  the  water  had  probably 
seen  the  toad,  and  heard  what  she  said ; for 
they  put  up  their  heads  that  they  might 
have  a look  at  the  little  maiden.  As  soon 
as  they  had  seen  her,  they  were  touched  by 
her  beauty,  and  they  were  very  sorry  that 
such  a charming  little  damsel  should  become 
12 


littU  (Elli? 


tlie  prey  of  a nasty  toad.  The  y therefore 
Assembled  round  the  green  stem  on  which 
the  leaf  grew  where  Elbe  was,  and  gnawed 
it  in  two  with  their  teeth ; and  now  leaf 
and  Ellie,  slowly  and  gently,  floated  down 
the  stream,  far  away  out  of  reach  of  the 
toad. 

Thus  the  little  maiden  sailed  alon  g,  past 
towns  and  villages ; and  when  the  1 irds  on 
the  trees  perceived  her,  they  sang  aloud, 
“ Oh,  what  a charming  little  maid  !”  But 
away,  away  floated  the  leaf,  alwa/s  further 
and  further;  Ellie  was  making  quite  a 
foreign  voyage  upon  it. 

Then  there  came  a small  white  butterfly, 
and  after  fluttering  about  a long  time, 
settled  at  last  on  her  ieaf,  because  Ellie 
pleased  him;  she,  too,  was  glad  of  the  visit; 
for  she  knew  it  would  be  impossible  for  the 
toad  to  overtake  her  now.  The  country 
ehe  passed  through  was  very  beautiful ; and 
the  sun  shone  on  the  water,  making  it 
glitter  like  gold.  It  now  entered  her  head 
to  take  off  her  girdle,  and  bind  one  end  of 
it  to  the  butterfly,  and  the  other  to  the  leaf 

is 


little  éilh, 


bo  that  it  went  along  much  quicker,  and 
she  got  more  expeditiously  through  the 
world,  and  saw  a great  deal  more  of  its 
beauties  and  wonders. 

As  she  was  thus  sailing  along  so  charm- 
ingly a cockchafer  flew  by,  who  laid  hold 
of  her  thin  waist  with  his  long  nippers,  and 
flew  away  with  her  up  into  a tree,  while  the 
leaf  of  the  water-lily,  that  was  obliged  to 
follow  the  butterfly,  floated  on ; for  Elbe 
had  bound  him  so  firmly  that  he  could  not 
get  loose. 

Oh,  how  frightened  was  poor  Elbe  when 
the  cockchafer  flew  away  with  her  into  the 
tree  ! She  was,  too,  so  sorry  for  the  little 
butterfly,  who  now  would  perish,  unless  he 
could  liberate  himself  from  her  girdle  and 
the  green  leaf. 

But  all  this  did  not  trouble  the  chafer ; he 
put  her  down  on  a large  leaf,  gave  her 
honey  to  eat,  which  had  been  gathered 
from  the  flowers,  and  told  her  she  was  quite 
charmmg,  although  she  was  not  at  all  like 
a chafer. 

Before  long  all  the  other  cockchafers  that 
14 


kived  in  the  tree  made  their  appearance,  and 
paid  their  respects  to  Ellie,  stared  at  hei 
from  head  to  foot,  while  the  young-lady 
chafers  turned  up  thek  feelers  and  said, 
“She  has  but  two  legs;  and  that  looks  very 
wretched.  She  has  no  feelers  either,”  said 
they;  “and  is,  moreover,  as  small  round 
the  waist  as  a human  being ! It’s  very 
ugly,  I declare ! it  is  really  hideous  !”  cried 
out  all  the  young-lady  chafers  at  once. 
And  yet  our  sweet  Ellie  was  really  the  most 
engaging  little  being  imaginable. 

And  so  the  cockchafer  that  had  carried 
her  off  thought  too ; but  because  all  the  lady 
chafers  said  she  was  ugly,  he  began  at  last 
to  think  so  himself,  and  therefore  would 
have  nothing  more  to  say  to  her ; she  might 
go  where  she  chose,  he  said ; and  with  these 
words  he  flew  with  her  over  the  ground, 
and  set  her  on  a daisy. 

The  poor  thing  wept,  because  she  was  so 
ngly  that  not  even  a cockchafer  would  have 
anything  to  do  with  her.  But,  despite  the 
opinion  of  the  young-lady  chafers,  which 
was  certainly  a very  important  one,  Elli« 


little  (Elite. 


was  the  most  lovely  little  creature  in  the 
world,  as  delicate  and  beautiful  as  a young 
rose-leaf. 

All  that  long  summer  poor  Elbe  lived 
quite  alone,  in  the  large  forest.  She  wove 
herself  a bed  of  fine  grasses,  which  she  then 
hung  up  under  a burdock-leaf,  that  it  might 
not  be  washed  away  by  the  rain.  For  food 
she  gathered  the  honey  from  the  flower- 
cups;  and  she  drank  the  fresh  dew  that 
every  morning  stood  in  glittering  drops 
upon  the  leaves. 

Thus  passed  the  summer  and  autumn ; 
but  now  came  the  cold  long  winter.  All 
the  birds  that  had  sung  so  prettily  to  Ellie 
forsook  her  now ; the  trees  lost  their  foliage, 
the  flowers  faded,  and  the  large  burdock- 
leaf,  which  hitherto  had  served  her  for 
shelter,  shrunk  together,  till  nothing  but  a 
dry  yellow  stalk  was  left,  and  she  was  so 
cold,  for  her  clothes  were  in  rags ; and  she 
herself  was  so  delicate  and  small ! Poor 
Ellie  shivered;  she  was  almost  frozen  to 
death ! 

It  began,  too,  to  snow,  and  every  flak* 
16 


Eittlp  Ællif. 


that  struck  her  was  as  much  to  her  as  a 
whole  shovel-full  would  be  for  us,  her 
whole  body  being  only  an  inch  long.  To 
protect  herself  from  the  weather,  she  wrap- 
ped herself  up  in  a dead  leaf ; but  there  was 
no  warmth  in  it,  and  she  trembled  from 
head  to  foot  with  cold. 

Close  to  the  wood  where  Ellie  lay  was  a 
large  corn-field  ; but  the  corn  had  long  been 
cut,  and  only  the  dried  stubble  now  stood 
above  the  ground ; but  to  Ellie  this  was  a 
wood,  and  hither  she  came.  So  she 
chanced  to  arrive  at  the  house  of  a field- 
mouse,  which  consisted  of  a little  hole 
among  the  roots  of  the  corn-stubble.  Here, 
warm  and  comfortable,  dwelt  the  field- 
mouse  ; she  had  her  whole  room  stored  full 
of  corn  for  the  winter;  and  besides  it  a nice 
little  kitchen  and  larder.  Poor  Ellie  ap- 
proached the  door  like  a little  beggar  child, 
and  prayed  for  a morsel  of  barley-corn  to 
eat;  for  she  had  tasted  nothing  for  two 
whole  days. 

“Poor  little  thing!”  said  the  field-mouse, 
who  was  very  good-hearted ; “ come  into 

S DO  17 


littlt  fllit. 


my  warm  room,  and  eat  some  of  my  bread.” 
And  as  Ellie  pleased  her,  she  sa:d,  “Per- 
haps you  would  like  to  pass  the  winter  in 
my  house;  but  then  you  must  keep  my 
room  clean,  and  tell  me  fairy  tales  to  amuse 
me ; for  that  is  what  I like  more  than  any 
thing.”  Ellie  did  what  the  good  mouse  re- 
quired, and  in  return  had  a very  comforta- 
ble life. 

“We  shall  soon  have  visitors,”  said  the 
field-mouse  to  her  one  day,  soon  after  Ellie 
was  settled  in  her  place.  “ My  neighbor 
usually  pays  me  a visit  once  a-week.  He 
lives  in  much  grander  style  than  I ; for  he 
has  many  splendid  chambers,  and  wears 
costly  fur.  If  you  could  get  him  for  a hus- 
band, you  were  then  well  provided  for; 
however,  his  sight  is  not  very  good.  But 
you  must  not  fail  to  tell  him  the  prettiest 
stories,  and  sing  for  him  the  most  touching 
songs,  that  you  know.” 

But  Ellie  would  listen  to  nothing  of  the 
sort;  for  she  could  not  bear  the  sight  o( 
their  neighbor,  because  he  was  a mole. 
He  really  did  come  to  pay  the  mouse  a 
18 


littlt  Ællii. 


visit ; and,  true  enough,  had  on  fur  as  soft 
as  velvet.  He  was  very  rich  and  very 
learned,  the  field-mouse  said ; and  his  house 
was  more  than  twenty  times  larger  than 
hers.  As  to  hi3  being  learned,  there  was 
not  a doubt  about  it;  but  he  detested  the 
sun  and  the  gay  flowers,  and  spoke  of  both 
with  contempt,  though  he  had  never  seen 
cither. 

Elbe  was  obliged  to  sing  to  him;  so 
she  sang  two  songs,  “ Fly  away,  lady- 
bird, fly  away  home!”  and  “The  priest 
goes  to  the  field!”  Her  beautiful  voice  so 
pleased  the  mole,  that  he  fell  in  love  with 
her;  but  he  took  good  care  not  to  show  it; 
for  he  was  a most  sensible  personage. 

A short  time  before,  he  had  made  a long 
passage  from  his  dwelling  to  that  of  his 
neighbor ; and  he  now  gave  Ellie  and  the 
mouse  permission  to  walk  in  it  as  often  as 
they  pleased.  He  begged  them,  at  the 
Bårne  time,  not  to  be  frightened  at  the  dead 
bird  that  lay  at  the  entrance.  It  was,  no 
doubt,  a bird  that  had  just  died;  for  it  had 

all  its  feathers  on,  and  seemed  to  have  been 

13 


buried  at  the  spot  where  the  mole  had  built 
his  gallery. 

Neighbor  mole  then  took  a hit  of  touch- 
wood  in  his  mouth,  for  it  shines  just  like  fire 
n the  dark,  and  went  before  to  light  them 
through  the  dark  passage;  and  when  he 
came  to  the  spot  where  the  dead  bird  lay, 
he  gave  the  earth  a push  with  his  snout,  so 
that  the  mould  rolled  down  and  made  a 
large  opening,  through  which  the  daylight 
fell. 

Elbe  could  now  see  the  dead  bird  quite 
well — it  was  a swallow.  Its  pretty  wings 
were  pressed  close  to  its  body,  and  its  feet 
and  head  drawn  back  under  the  feathers. 

“ The  poor  bird  is  certainly  frozen  to 
death,”  said  Elbe;  and  she  was  heartily 
sorry  for  the  poor  animal,  for  she  loved 
birds  dearly,  because  they  had  sung  to 
her  the  whole  summer  long. 

But  the  mole  gave  it  a push  with  his  foot/ 
and  said,  “ There  is  an  end  of  all  his  fine 
singing  now ! It  really  must  be  a wretched 
existence  to  be  a bird ! Thank  heaven,  my 
children  won;t  be  birds.  Why,  such  a poci 

"n  20 


little  éllie. 


feathery  thing  has  nothing  in  the  wot  d ex. 
cept  his  ‘chirp,’  ‘chirp,’  and  whin  win  tel 
comes  he  must  starve.” 

“Yes,  indeed,  you  may  well  say  that,” 
replied  the  mouse.  “ And  with  all  his  fine 
‘chirp,’  ‘chirp.’  what  has  a bird  got  when 
■winter  is  come  ? Starvation  and  cold, 
that’s  all?  But  that  I suppose  is  thought 
very  grand.” 

Ellie  was  silent;  but  when  the  others 
turned  their  backs,  she  bent  over  the  bird, 
put  aside  the  feathers  which  lay  over  its 
head,  and  kissed  its  closed  eyes. 

“ Perhaps  it  was  you  who  sang  me  such 
pretty  songs,”  thought  she.  “How  often 
have  you  delighted  me,  my  dear,  beautiful 
bird !” 

The  mole  then  stopped  up  the  opening 
again  through  which  the  daylight  had 
entered,  and  escorted  the  two  ladies  home. 
But  Ellie  could  not  sleep  that  night.  She 
got  up  out  of  bed,  platted  a mat  of  hay, 
carried  it  to  where  the  dead  bird  was, 
spread  it  over  him,  and  covered  him  up  on 
etery  side  with  soft  cotton,  which  she  had 


littit  <euf». 


found  in  the  field-mouse’s  parlor,  that  he 
might  rest  more  warmly  than  on  the  cold 
earth. 

“ Farewell,  pretty  little  bird,”  said  she, 
“farewell!  and  many  thanks  for  your 
friendly  song  last  summer,  when  all  the 
trees  were  green,  and  the  sun  shone  down 
upon  us  all  so  warmly!” 

Then  she  laid  her  little  head  on  the 
bosom  of  the  bird,  but  she  was  sadly  fright- 
ened ; for  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  something 
moved  within.  It  was  the  heart  of  the 
bird,  who  was  not  dead,  but  only  lay 
benumbed,  and  came  to  life  again  when 
penetrated  by  the  warmth. 

In  autumn  the  swallows  fly  to  warm 
countries,  but  when  there  is  a weakling 
among  them,  which  tarries  behind  until 
the  winter  sets  in,  it  becomes  benumbed 
with  the  cold,  so  that  it  falls  to  the  ground 
and  lies  in  a torpid  state  till  the  chill  snow 
covers  it. 

At  first  Ellie  was  frightened  when  the 
Dird  began  to  move,  for  compared  to  her  he 
was  a giant;  but  she  soon  took  courage 
22 


rittlf  élla. 


tucked  in  the  covering  all  around  the  ex- 
hausted creature,  and  then  fetched  the  mint 
leaf  which  had  hitherto  served  her  as  a 
pillow,  in  order  to  put  it  over  the  poor  bird’s 
head. 

The  following  night  she  again  stole  away 
to  the  swallow,  whom  she  now  found  quite 
revived,  but  still  so  weak  that  he  could  only 
open  his  eyes  a few  times  to  look  at  Ellic, 
who  held  a bit  of  touchwood  in  her  hand 
that  she  might  see  his  face. 

“ A thousand  thanks,  you  pretty  little 
child,”  said  the  sick  swallow.  “ I am  so 
warmed  through,  that  I shall  soon  recover 
my  strength,  and  be  able  to  fly  out  again  into 
the  warm  sunshine.” 

“Oh,  it  is  still  much  too  cold  out  of 
doors,”  answered  Ellie.  “ It  snows  and 
freezes  still.  You  must  stay  in  your  warm 
bed,  and  I will  nurse  you  and  take  care  of 
you.” 

She  now  brought  the  bird  some  wator  in 
a leaf,  which  he  drank ; and  he  told  her 
how  he  had  hurt  his  wings  with  some 
brambles  so  much  that  he  was  not  able  to 

*3 


little  dfclli*. 


fly  away  to  the  warm  countries  with  his 
companions,  but  had  fallen  exhausted,  to 
the  earth,  and  had  lost  all  power  of  recol- 
lection, so  that  it  did  not  know  how  it  had 
come  there. 

The  little  swallow  remained  here  the 
whole  winter,  and  Ellie  tended  him  ar.<l 
liked  him  better  and  better  every  day ; but 
she  told  the  mole  and  the  field-mouse  no- 
thing of  the  matter,  for  she  knew  very  well 
that  neither  of  them  could  bear  the  poor  bird. 

As  soon  as  summer  was  come  and  the 
genial  rays  of  the  sun  penetrated  the  earth, 
the  swallow  bade  Ellie  farewell ; for  she 
had  opened  the  hole  in  the  ground  through 
which  the  mole  had  let  in  the  light.  The 
sun  shone  so  cheerily  that  the  swallow 
asked  his  faithful  nurse  if  she  would  not  fly 
away  with  him.  She  might  sit  on  his  back, 
and  then  they  would  fly  away  together  to 
the  wood.  But  Ellie  thought  it  would 
grieve  the  old  field-mouse  if  she  were  to 
leave  her  in  secret,  and  therefore  she  felt 
obliged  to  decline  the  kind  invitation  of  the 
swallow. 

24 


“Farewell,  then,  good  little  maiden," 
•aid  the  swallow,  and  flew  off  into  the 
pleasant  sunshine.  Ellie  looked  after  him 
sorrowfully,  and  tears  came  into  her  eyes; 
for  she  liked  the  friendly  bird  very  much, 
and  was  sorry  to  part  from  him.  She  felt 
quite  forlorn  now  he  was  gone. 

'‘Chirup!  chirup!  chirup !”  sang  the 
swallow,  and  flew  away  toward  the  green 
wood 

Ellie  was  now  very  sad,  for  she  was  not 
allowed  to  go  out  of  the  dark  hole  to  enjoy 
the  warm  sunshine.  The  com  grew  up 
above  her,  and  formed  quite  a thick  wood 
before  the  dwelling  of  the  field-mouse. 

“You  can  employ  the  summer  in  getting 
your  wedding-clothes  ready,  and  what  you 
want  in  housekeeping,”  said  the  mouse , 
for  her  neighbor,  the  tiresome  mole,  had 
really  proposed  for  Ellie. 

“ I will  give  you  all  you  want,  both 
woollen  and  linen,0  said  the  mouse,  so 
that  you  may  have  a house  full  when  you 
•re  the  wife  of  the  mole.” 

So  Ellie  was  obliged  to  spin  at  the  bobbins, 


little  øllir. 


and  the  field-mouse  hired  four  spiders  that 
were  forced  to  weave  day  and  night 
Every  evening  the  mole  came  to  pay  a 
visit,  and  always  spoke  of  his  wish  that 
summer  would  soon  be  over,  that  these 
might  be  an  end  of  the  heat;  and  wheu 
winter  should  come,  then  was  to  be  the 
wedding.  But  Ellie  was  not  at  all  glad ; 
for  she  could  not  bear  the  sight  of  the  ugly 
mole,  though  his  fur  was  as  rich  and  soft 
as  velvet. 

Morning  and  evening  she  stole  to  the  door ; 
and  when  the  breeze  blew  the  ears  of  com 
apart,  and  she  could  see  the  blue  sky,  she 
thought  it  was  so  beautiful  and  bright  out 
there  in  the  open  air,  and  she  wished  with 
all  her  heart  that  she  might  see  the  little 
swallow  once  again.  But  no  swallow 
came;  he  was,  no  doubt,  enjoying  the 
warm  sunshine  far  away  in  the  green 
wood. 

As  autumn  approached,  Eilif  was  ready 
with  her  wedding-things. 

“In  four  weeks  you  will  be  married,” 
eaid  the  old  field-mouse;  but  Ellie  wept, 

2fl 


litilt  éllit. 


and  said  she  would  not  have  the  tkesonw 
mole  for  a husband. 

“ I’iddle  de  dee !”  answered  die  field* 
mouse.  “Don’t  be  refractory,  or  I shall 
give  you  a bite  with  my  sharp  teeth  ; is  not 
your  future  husband  a very  handsome 
man  ? Even  the  Queen  has  not  such  a 
dress  of  beautiful  velvet  fur  to  show  as  he 
has ! His  larder  and  cellar  are  full,  and 
you  may  thank  your  stars  that  you  can  be 
so  well  provided  for.” 

Now,  then,  was  to  be  the  wedding ! The 
mole  was  already  come  to  fetch  Elbe,  who 
in  future  was  to  live  with  him  deep  under 
the  earth,  where  no  sunbeam  could  ever 
penetrate.  The  poor  thing  was  quite  melan- 
choly at  the  thought  of  taking  leave  of  the 
dear  sun,  which,  as  long  as  she  was  with 
the  field-mouse,  she  could  at  least  see  from 
the  door ; and  she  begged  so  hard,  that  the 
mouse  gave  her  leave  to  go  out  and  see  it 
for  the  last  time. 

“ Farewell,  beloved  sun !”  said  she,  rais- 
ing her  hands  to  the  sky,  and  advancing 
tome  steps  from  the  house ; fot  the  harvest 

27 


mit  mt. 


was  over,  and  the  dry  stubble  again  on  th« 
field,  “ Farewell ! farewell !”  repeated  she, 
and  twined  her  arms  round  a little  flower 
that  stood  near  her.  “Remember  me  to 
the  swallow  if  you  should  chance  to  see 
him.” 

“Chirrup!  chirrup!  chirrup  !”  resounded 
at  the  same  moment;  and  when  Elbe  lifted 
up  her  eyes,  she  saw  the  very  same  well- 
known  swallow  fly  by.  As  soon  as  the 
bird  perceived  Elbe,  he  instantly  flew  to  his 
kind  nurse,  who  told  him  how  unwilling 
she  was  to  take  the  ugly  mole  for  her  hus- 
band ; and  that  she  was  to  live  with  him 
under-ground,  where  the  sun  and  moon 
would  never  shine.  At  these  words  she 
burst  into  tears. 

“Winter  will  soon  be  here,”  said  the 
swallow,  “and  I shall  fly  far  away  to  the 
warm  countries.  If  you  will  travel  with 
me,  I will  willingly  take  you  on  my  back. 
You  have  only  to  bind  yourself  on  firmly 
with  your  girdle,  and  off  we  will  fly  far 
away  from  the  hateful  mole  and  his  dark 
chamber,  over  mountain  and  valley,  to 
28 


tittit  ifllit. 


those  beautiful  lands  where  the  sun  shinea 
much  more  warmly  than  here;  where  cease- 
less summer  reigns,  and  bright  flowers  are 
always  blooming.  Take  courage,  and  fly 
with  me,  good  little  Ellie ; you  who  saved 
my  life  when  I lay  frozen  and  almost  dead 
on  the  earth !” 

“Yes,  I will  fly  with  you,”  exclaimed 
Ellie  joyfully.  She  mounted  on  the  back 
of  the  swallow,  supported  her  feet  on  his 
wings,  fastened  herself  by  her  girdle  to  a 
strong  feather,  and  flew  away  with  him  high 
over  woods  and  lakes,  over  valley  and 
mountain.  When  they  passed  over  icy  or 
snowy  glaciers,  Ellie  often  felt  cold ; but 
then  she  crept  under  the  feathers  of  the 
bird,  covered  herself  all  over  and  only  put 
out  her  head  to  admire  all  the  wonders 
below  her. 

At  last  they  arrived  in  the  warm  countries. 
There  the  sun  shone  brighter  than  with  us ; 
the  sky  was  as  high  again,  and  on  walls 
and  palings  grew  the  finest  blue  and  green 
grapes.  Ripe  oranges  and  citrons  hung  in 
the  groves,  and  the  fragrance  of  myrtlei 

29 


littlt  «IIU. 


and  of  jasmine  rose  in  the  air,  while  lovely 
children  played  about  with  the  most  bril- 
liantly painted  butterflies.  But  the  swallow 
flew  further  and  further,  and  beneath  them 
the  country  became  always  more  and  more 
beautiful. 

On  the  banks  of  a lake,  amid  magnificent 
acacias,  stood  a marble  palace,  built  in  long- 
past  days.  Vines  twined  themselves  round 
its  columns,  on  which,  high  above,  many 
swallows’  nests  were  hanging.  Into  one  of 
these  nests  the  swallow  carried  Elbe. 

“Here  is  my  home,”  said  he;  “but  do 
you  seek  out  one  of  the  loveliest  flow- 
ers that  grow  yonder  for  your  dwelling; 
then  I will  carry  you  thither,  and  you  shall 
make  yourself  as  comfortable  as  you  please ; 
your  every  wish  shall  be  readily  and  cheer- 
fully fulfilled.” 

“Oh,  that  will  be  delightful  indeed!” 
exclaimed  Ellie,  and  clapped  her  little  hands 
with  joy. 

On  the  ground  lay  a large  white  marblt 
pillar,  that  had  fallen  down,  and  was  broken 
in  three  pieces ; but  between  each  fragment 
30 


rittit  lEllir. 


the  most  beautiful  white  flowers  grew  iux* 
uriantly. 

The  swallow  flew  with  Ellie  to  oue  of 
these  flowers,  and  set  her  down  on  a broad 
leaf;  but  how  astonished  was  Ellie  when 
she  saw  that  in  the  flower  a little  mannikin 
was  sitting,  as  delicate  and  transparent  as 
glass.  He  wore  a small  golden  crown  on 
his  head,  and  the  most  beautiful  bright 
wings  on  his  shoulders ; and  he  was  not  :i 
whit  larger  than  Ellie  herself.  This  was 
the  sylph  of  the  flower.  In  each  flower 
dwelt  such  a little  man  with  his  wife ; but 
this  was  the  king  of  all  the  sylphs  of  the 
flowers. 

“ Oh,  how  handsome  this  king  is  !”  whis- 
pered Ellie  in  the  swallow’s  ear.  The  little 
prince  started  at  the  sudden  arrival  of  the 
great  bird ; but  when  he  saw  Ellie  he  be- 
came enamored  of  her,  for  she  was  the  most 
beautiful  maiden  he  had  ever  seen.  Then 
he  took  off  his  golden  crown,  set  it  on  Elbe’s 
head,  and  asked  her  name,  and  if  she  would 
be  his  wife,  and  so  become  queen  of  all  the 
flowers. 

11 


Xittb  Ællfe. 


Now  that,  to  be  sure,  was  a diffeient  sort 
of  husband  to  the  son  of  the  ugly  toad,  or 
the  tiresome  mole  with  the  costly  fur  ! So 
Elbe  said  “ Yes  ” to  the  little  prince;  and 
then  a lady  appeared,  and  then  a gentleman, 
out  of  all  the  other  flowers,  so  lovely,  that  it 
was  quite  a pleasure  to  see  them,  and  each 
of  them  brought  a present  to  Elbe.  The 
best  gift  that  was  offered  her  was  a pair  ot 
beautiful  white  wings,  which  were  fastened 
on  her  shoulders  immediately;  and  now  she 
too  could  fly  from  flower  to  flower — that 
was  such  a delight ! 

The  joy  was  universal.  The  little  swal- 
low sat  on  high  in  his  nest,  and  sang  as  well 
as  he  could,  though  he  was  very  sad ; for  he 
had  a great  affection  for  Ellie,  and  did  not 
wish  to  part  from  her. 

“ You  shall  not  be  called  Ellie  any  long- 
er,” said  the  sylph  ; “for  that  is  not  a pret- 
ty name,  and  you  are  so  very  beautiful. 
Henceforward  we  will  call  you  Maia.”* 

“Farewell,  farewell!”  cried  then  the  little 
»wallow,  and  flew  away  again  from  the 
• Maria. 

» 


little  (Eilif. 


warm  '.and,  far,  far  away;  off  to  little  Den- 
mark, where  he  has  his  nest  just  over  the 
window  of  the  room  in  which  dwells  the 
poet  who  can  tell  delightful  tales,  and  there 
■ings  to  him  his  “ Chirrup  ! chirrup ! chir- 
rup ! ' It  was  he  who  told  us  the  whole  ot 
this  wonderful  story. 


s 


Æjjt  Cinhr-Sm 


SOLDIER,  came  jnce 
upon  a time,  marching 
along  on  the  highway. 
He  had  his  knapsack 
upon  his  back, 
and  his  sword  by 
his  side;  for  he 
came  from  the  wars,  and 
was  now  on  his  way  home. 
Presently  an  old  witch  met  him ; she 
was  a loathsome  -looking  creature ; for 
her  under-lip  hung  down  over  hei 
chin. 

94 


Cljr  €inkr-38ni. 


« Good  evening,  soldier !”  said  she. 

* What  a beautiful  sword  you  have  there,  » 
and  what  a fine  large  knapsack!  Yon 
look  truly  like  a brave  soldier;  and  there- 
fore you  shall  have  as  much  money  as  you 
can  wish  for !” 

“Thank  ye,  old  witch!”  replied  the 
Boldier.  “That  would  be  very  acceptable 
indeed.” 

“Do  you  see  that  great  tree  yonder?” 
asked  the  witch,  pointing  to  a stout  oak 
that  stood  by  the  wayside.  “ That  tree  is 
quite  hollow;  and  if  you  will  climb  up  to 
the  top,  you  will  see  a hole  in  the  trunk, 
through  which  you  can  slide  down  and  get 
to  the  very  bottom  of  the  tree.  I will  tie  a 
rope  round  your  body,  so  that  I may  be 
able  to  pull  you  up  to  the  top  again  when 
you  call.” 

« And  what  nave  1 to  do  down  there  at 
die  bottom  of  the  tree  ?”  asked  the  soldier. 

“To  fetch  money,  to  be  sure!  What 
else  do  you  think!”  continued  the  witch. 
« But  you  must  know,  that  when  you  have 

sot  to  the  bottom  of  the  oak,  you  will  find 

® 35 


ÆJu  Æratør-IJni. 


yourself  in  a large  hall,  lighted  by  a 
hundred  lamps.  There  you  will  see  three 
doors,  all  of  which  you  can  open,  for  thø 
key  is  in  every  one  of  them.  If  you  enter 
the  first  door,  you  will  come  into  a chamber, 
in  the  middle  of  which,  on  the  floor,  a great 
money-chest  stands,  but  which  is  guarded 
by  a dog  with  eyes  as  large  as  tea-cups ; 
but  that  you  need  not  mind  1 will  give 
you  my  colored  apron  ; you  must  spread  it 
out  on  the  floor,  and  then  you  may  boldly 
lay  hold  of  the  dog  and  put  him  on  it ; after 
which  you  can  take  out  of  the  chest  as 
many  halfpence  as  you  please : in  that 
chest  it  is  all  copper.  But  if  you  want 
silver,  you  must  go  into  the  second  cham- 
ber. However,  here  sits  a dog  upon  the 
chest,  with  a pair  of  eyes  as  large  as  mill- 
wheels ; but  that  you  need  not  mind  either : 
put  the  dog  on  the  apron,  and  take  as  much 
silver  as  you  please.  But  if  you  would 
rather  have  gold,  you  must  go  into  the 
third  chamber,  and  then  you  can  take  as 
much  as  you  can  carry.  But  the  dog  that 
guards  this  money-chest  has  eyes  as  large  as 

36 


Ihe  Round  Tower*  at  Copenhagen.  'Hiat’i 
a dog  for  you  who  can  see  ! But  you  need 
not  mind  him : put  him  on  my  apron,  and 
take  as  many  gold  pieces  out  of  the  chest  as 
you  please;  the  dog  won’t  do  you  any  harm.” 

“That  wouldn’t  be  amiss!”  said  the 
uoldier.  “ But  what  am  I to  give  you,  old 
beldame?  For  ’tis  not  very  likely  you 
would  tell  me  this,  and  send  me  down  the 
hollow  tree  to  get  so  much  treasure  for 
nothing !” 

“ No,  said  the  witch,  “ I don’t  ask  a 
farthing!  You  must  only  bring  up  with 
you  the  tinder-box  you  will  find,  that  my 
grandmother  forgot  the  last  time  she  was 
down  there.” 

“Well,  give  me  the  rope,’’  said  the 
soldier,  “ I’ll  try  !” 

“ Here  it  is,”  said  the  witch ; “ and  here 
too  is  my  colored  apron.”  And  she  gave 
them  both  to  him. 

So  the  soldier  climbed  up  to  the  top  of 
the  oak,  put  the  rope  about  him,  slipped 

• TI10  Observatory  ; so  called  on  account  of  its  rot)  ad 


CIji  € minr-9Gni. 


W^iough  the  hole  in  the  trunk;  and  stood 
suddenly  in  the  great  hall,  which  was 
lighted,  exactly  as  the  old  witch  had  told 
him,  by  a hundred  lamps. 

As  soon  as  he  had  looked  round  him  a 
little,  he  found  also  the  three  doors,  and  im- 
mediately opened  the  first.  There  really 
sat  the  dog  with  eyes  as  large  as  tea-cups, 
and  stared  at  him. 

“ Ho,  ho,  my  dog !”  said  the  soldier 
“ Good  fellow  !”  And  he  spread  the  witch’s 
apron  on  the  floor,  and  set  the  dog  upon  it. 

He  now  opened  the  money-chest,  filled  all 
his  pockets  with  copper  pennies  and  half- 
pence, shut  down  the  lid  again,  put  the 
staring  dog  on  the  top  of  it,  and  went,  with 
his  apron,  into  the  second  chamber.  Good 
heavens ! There  sat  the  dog  with  eyes  as 
big  as  mill-wheels. 

“You  should  not  look  at  me  so  fixedly,’ 
said  he  to  the  dog  that  was  keeping  watch ; 
“that  weakens  the  eyes!”  Thereupon  he 
set  the  animal  on  the  apron ; but  when  he 
saw  the  quantity  of  silver  coin,  he  threw 
away  the  coppers  and  filled  all  his  pockets 
38 


Æjje  €intør-38oi. 


mnd  his  knapsack  with  the  bright  eilvei. 
And  then  he  went  to  the  third  door,  and 
into  the  chamber. 

Well,  that  was  enough  to  disgust  anybody . 
The  dog  here  really  had  eyes  as  large  as  the 
Round  Tower,  and  they  rolled  about  in  Ins 
head  like  turning-wheels. 

“Good  evening,”  said  the  soldier,  putting 
his  hand  to  his  cap  and  saluting  in  true 
military  style;  for  such  a monster  he  had 
never  met  before.  However,  after  he  had 
looked  at  him  for  some  moments,  he  thought 
it  was  enough  ; so  he  spread  out  the  apron, 
lifted  the  enormous  dog  off  the  cover,  and 
opened  the  money-chest. 

What  heaps  of  gold  he  saw  ! He  could 
have  bought  all  Copenhagen,  all  the  sugar- 
plums, all  the  games  of  soldiers,  all  the 
whips  and  rocking-horses  in  Europe,  with 
the  money  ! At  the  first  sight  of  such  rich 
treasure,  the  soldier  threw  away  all  the 
silver  with  which  he  was  laden,  and  stuffed 
his  pockets,  his  knapsack,  his  cap,  and  hi* 
boots,  so  full  of  gold  pieces,  that  he  could 
but  just  move  with  the  weight.  Now,  in* 

39 


dtfø  CMtr-35nx. 


deed,  he  had  money  in  abundance.  The  tre- 
mendous dog  was  put  on  the  cover  again,  the 
door  of  the  chamber  shut,  and  the  soldier 
went  back  to  the  hollow  of  the  tree,  and 
called  out. 

“Hallo,  old  hag!  Now,  then,  pull  me 
up  again !” 

“ Have  you  got  the  tinder-box  ?”  said  the 
witch  in  reply. 

“I’ll  be  hanged,  if  I hadn’t  nearly  forgot- 
ten it !”  said  the  soldier.  He  then  put  the 
tinder-box  in  his  pocket;  the  witch  drew 
him  up  out  of  the  tree ; and  he  soon  was 
standing  again  upon  the  highway  with  all 
his  treasures. 

“ What  do  you  want  with  the  tinder-box  ?” 
asked  the  soldier. 

“That’s  nothing  to  you,”  answered  the 
old  hag.  “You’ve  got  money  in  plenty; 
so  give  me  the  tinder-box.” 

“ No !”  said  the  soldier.  “ Tell  ma 
directly  what  you’ll  do  with  the  tinder-box, 
or  I’h  cut  your  head  off  with  my  sword  !” 

“No,”  cried  the  witch,  “I  won’t.” 

And  the  soldier  instantly  drew  his  sword 
40 


€inkr-3Gni. 


and  chopped  her  head  from  her  body,  so 
there  was  an  end  of  her ! He  then  tied  op 
his  money  in  her  apron,  put  the  bundle  over 
his  shoulder  and  the  tinder-box  in  his 
pocket,  and  walked  on  until  he  came  to  the 
next  town. 

It  was  a large  city;  and  he  went  to  the 
first  hotel,  asked  for  the  best  apartments, 
and  ordered  the  most  delicate  things  for 
dinner  ; for  he  was  now  a moneyed  man. 

The  waiters,  it  is  true,  thought  his  boots 
rather  strange-looking  for  so  grand  a gentle- 
man ; but  they  were  of  another  opinion  next 
morning,  after  he  had  been  out  shopping; 
for  they  now  had  the  most  elegant  boots  to 
clean,  and  the  finest  clothing  to  brush. 
The  soldier  had  become  quite  a dandy ; he 
talked  of  the  curiosities  of  the  town,  and  the 
sights  to  be  seen,  and  the  people  told  him 
about  the  King  and  his  beautiful  daughter 
the  Princess. 

“How  can  I see  her?”  asked  the  soldier 
impatiently. 

“She  is  not  to  be  seen  at  all,”  was  th« 
answer ; “ for  she  lives  in  a large  brazeD 
rr  4i 


€jic  €in!trt-36nx. 


palace  surrounded  by  many  towers  and 
high  walls.  Only  the  King  visits  his 
daughter  ; because  it  has  been  foretold  that 
the  Princess  will  marry  a common  soldier, 
and  the  King  would  never  hear  of  such  a 
thing.” 

“I’d  give  the  world  to  see  the  Princess  !” 
thought  the  soldier  to  himself;  but  as  to 
getting  a permission,  it  was  of  no  use  think- 
ing of  such  a thing. 

Meanwhile  he  led  a merry  life ; went 
often  to  the  play,  drove  about  in  the  royal 
park,  and  gave  a good  deal  to  the  poor.  It 
was  praiseworthy  of  him  to  be  charitable ; 
but  he  knew  well  enough  by  experience 
what  a poor  fellow  feels  who  has  not  a 
penny  in  his  pocket.  He  was,  moreover, 
a rich  man,  had  handsome  clothes,  and 
many  friends,  who  told  him  every  day  that 
he  was  an  excellent  creature,  a perfect 
gentleman;  and  all  this  the  soldier  liked  to 
hear. 

But  it  so  happened  after  a while,  as  he 
was  always  taking  from  his  money  and 
never  received  any,  he  had  at  last  but  two- 

12 


€Ijp  Cinitcr-'Uni. 


pencc-halfpcnny  left.  So  lie  was  obliged  to 
leave  the  handsome  lodgings  he  had  lived  in 
till  now,  and  to  take  a small  garret,  to  clean 
his  own  boots,  and  darn  and  mend  his 
clothes  himself  when  they  wanted  it.  None 
of  his  old  friends  visited  him  any  more;  for 
they  could  not,  of  course,  go  up  so  many 
pair  of  stairs  for  his  sake. 

It  was  quite  dark  in  his  room,  and  he 
had  not  even  money  enough  to  buy  a 
candle.  Suddenly  he  remembered  that,  in 
the  tinder-box  which  he  fetched  up  from  the 
bottom  of  the  hollow  oak,  there  were  a 
few  matches.  He  therefore  took  it,  and 
began  to  strike  a light ; but  as  soon  as  the 
sparks  flew  about,  the  door  of  his  room  was 
thrown  open,  and  the  dog  with  eyes  as  large 
as  a tea-cup  walked  in,  and  said,  “What 
does  the  master  please  to  command?” 

“ Well  done !”  cried  the  soldier,  astonish- 
ed ; “ that’s  a capital  tinder-box,  if  I can 
get  all  I want  with  so  little  trouble ! Well, 
then,  my  friend,”  said  he  to  the  dog  with 
the  staring  eye:!,  “ I am  in  want  of  money 
get  me  some 


*2 


€Ije  Æintør-SGni. 


Crack!  the  dog  had  vanished,  and  crack \ 
there  he  was  again  standing  before  the 
soldier,  holding  a purse  filled  with  copper 
loin  between  his  teeth. 

Now  the  soldier  perfectly  understood  how 
*o  employ  the  tinder-box : if  he  struck  with 
the  flint  and  steel  once,  then  the  dog  with 
the  copper  money  appeared;  if  twice,  the 
one  with  the  silver  coin ; and  if  three  times, 
then  came  the  dog  that  guarded  the  chest 
of  gold. 

After  this  discovery,  he  returned  imme- 
diately to  his  former  handsome  lodgings; 
his  numerous  kind  friends  came  to  him 
again,  and  testified  their  sincere  affection 
and  attachment. 

“Well,”  thought  the  soldier  one  day  to 
himself,  “ ’tis  very  strange  that  no  one  may 
see  the  beautiful  Princess  ! They  say  she 
is  a great  b«auty ; but  what  good  will  that 
do  her,  if  she  is  always  to  stay  shut  up 
in  the  brazen  castle  with  the  numerous 
towers ! I wonder  if  it  really  be  impossible 
to  see  her!  Where’s  my  tinder-box?  1 
should  like  to  know  if  it’s  only  money  that 

44 


* 


; 


dtyf  fRntør-Uni. 


he  can  procure.”  He  struck  the  flint,  and 
the  well-known  dog  with  saucer-eyes  stood 
before  him. 

“It  is  midnight,  it  is  true,”  said  he; 
“but  I should  like  so  much  to  see  the 
Princess  only  for  a moment !” 

In  a moment  the  dog  was  out  of  the  room, 
and  before  the  soldier  thought  it  possible, 
he  saw  him  return  with  the  Princess,  who 
sat  asleep  on  the  dog’s  back,  and  was  so  in- 
describably beautiful  that  anybody  who 
saw  her  would  know  directly  she  was  a 
Princess.  The  soldier  could  not  help  it; 
happen  what  might,  he  must  give  the 
Princess  a kiss,  and  so  he  did,  for  he  was, 
body  and  soul,  a soldier. 

Then  the  dog  ran  back  again  to  the 
palace  with  the  lovely  Princess.  The  next 
morning  at  breakfast  she  told  her  parents  ot 
the  curious  dream  she  had  had ; that  she 
had  been  riding  on  a dog,  and  that  a soldier 
had  given  her  a kiss. 

“ A very  pretty  affair  indeed !”  said  the 
Queen.  So  now  it  was  agreed  that,  next 
night,  one  of  the  ladies  of  the  court  should 

13 


€jjf  (Kinltpr-^nx. 


watch  at  the  bedside  of  the  Princess,  in 
order  to  see  into  the  matter  of  the  dream, 
and  if  anything  happened  to  her  in  he* 
Bleep. 

That  night  again,  the  soldier  felt  a 
strange  longing  to  see  the  beautiful  Princess 
from  the  brazen  castle.  The  dog  was  there- 
fore despatched,  who  took  her  again  on  his 
back  and  ran  off  with  her.  But  the  cunning 
old  lady  quickly  put  on  a pair  of  good 
walking-boots,  and  ran  after  the  dog  so  fast, 
that  she  caught  sight  of  him  just  as  he  was 
going  into  the  house  where  the  soldier 
lived. 

“Ah,  ah!”  thought  she;  “all’s  right 
now  ! I know  where  he  is  gone  to and 
she  made  a cross  on  the  street  door  with  a 
piece  of  chalk.  Then  she  went  back  to  the 
palace,  and  lay  down  to  sleep.  The  dog, 
too,  came  back  with  the  Princess ; but 
when  he  remarked  that  there  was  a cross 
on  the  house  where  the  soldier  lived,  he 
made  crosses  on  all  the  street-doors  in 
the  town;  which  was  very  clever  of  the 
animal,  for  now  the  lady  would  not  be  able, 
46 


Øft  tøintør-l&oi. 


with  all  her  ingenuity,  to  find  the  right  dooi 
again. 

Early  next  morning  came  the  King  and 
Queen,  the  old  lady,  and  all  the  high 
officers  of  the  crown,  to  ascertain  where 
the  Princess  had  gone  to  in  the  night. 

“ Here’s  the  house  !”  exclaimed  the  King, 
when  he  saw  the  first  door  that  had  a cross 
on  it. 

“ No,  it  must  be  here,  my  dear,”  said  the 
Queen,  perceiving  the  next  house  with  a 
white  cross. 

“ Here,  there,  and  every  where  are  white 
crosses”  cried  all;  for,  look  where  they 
would,  the  street-doors  had  white  crosses 
on  them ; and  they  now  perceived  it  would 
be  a vain  attempt  to  try  to  find  the  right 
house. 

The  Queen,  however,  was  an  exceedingly 
clever  woman.  She  knew  something  more 
than  merely  how  to  sit  in  a carriage  with 
an  air;  and  therefore  she  soon  found  out  a 
way  how  to  come  on  the  traces  of  the  dog. 
She  took  a whole  piece  of  silk,  cut  it  in 
two  with  a golden  pair  of  scissors,  and 

47 


€\)t  fflttr-ISiii. 


with  the  pieces  made  a bag.  This  bag  she 
had  filled  with  the  most  finely-sifted  flour, 
and  tied  it  with  her  own  hands  round  the 
Princess’s  neck.  When  this  was  done,  she 
took  her  golden  scissors  and  cut  a small 
hole  in  the  bag,  just  large  enough  to  let 
the  flour  run  slowly  out  when  the  Princess 
moved. 

The  dog  came  again  in  the  night,  took 
the  Princess  on  his  back,  and  ran  off  with 
her  to  the  soldier,  who  wanted  so  much  only 
to  look  at  her,  and  who  would  have  given 
any  thing  to  be  a Prince,  so  that  he  might 
marry  the  Princess. 

But  the  dog  did  not  observe  that  his  track 
from  the  palace  to  the  soldier’s  house  was 
marked  with  the  flour  that  had  run  out  of 
the  bag.  On  the  following  morning  the 
King  and  the  Queen  readily  saw  where  their 
daughter  had  been  during  the  night;  and 
therefore  they  ordered  the  soldier  to  be  ar- 
rested and  put  into  prison. 

There  now  sat  the  poor  soldier  in  prison, 
and  it  was  so  dark  too  in  his  cell ; besides, 
the  jailor  told  him  that  he  was  to  be  hang- 
48 


Æjjp  tøinitrr-38oi. 


ed  on  the  morrow.  That  was  indeed  no 
very  pleasant  news  for  the  soldier,  and  more 
unfortunate  tlmn  all,  he  had  left  his  tinder- 
box  at  the  hotel. 

When  day  broke  he  could  see  out  of  hii 
little  prison-windows  how  the  people  were 
streaming  from  the  town  to  see  the  execu- 
tion; he  heard  the  drums  beat,  and  saw 
the  soldiers  marching  to  the  spot  where  the 
scafTold  was  erected.  Among  the  crowd 
was  a little  apprentice,  who  was  in  such  a 
hurry  that  he  lost  one  of  his  shoes  just  as 
he  was  running  by  the  prison. 

“ Hallo,  my  little  man  !”  cried  the  soldier 
to  the  boy;  “ you  need  not  be  in  such  a hurry; 
for  nothing  can  be  done  till  I come ! If  you 
will  run  to  the  inn,  at  the  sign  of  the  Golden 
Angel,  and  fetch  me  a tinder-box  that  I left 
behind  in  my  room,  I’ll  give  you  a groat  for 
your  trouble ; — but  you  must  make  all  the 
haste  you  can !” 

The  boy  wanted  very  much  to  get  the 
groat;  so  off  he  ran  to  the  Golden  Angel, 
found  the  tinder-box  as  described  in  the 
soldier’s  room,  and  brought  it  to  him  to  his 

i GO 


€inkr-Sni. 

grated  window.  Now  let  us  see  what  hap- 
pened. 

Outside  the  town  a high  gallows  had 
been  erected,  which  was  surrounded  by  a 
quantity  of  soldiers,  and  thousands  of  peo- 
ple occupied  the  large  field.  The  King  and 
Queen  sat  on  a splendid  throne  that  had 
been  erected  for  them,  opposite  the  judges 
and  the  councillors. 

The  soldier  was  already  on  the  highest 
step  of  the  ladder,  and  the  executioner  was 
just  about  to  put  the  rope  round  his  neck, 
when  he  implored  that  they  would  grant 
him,  poor  sinner  that  he  was,  one  last  wish. 
He  had,  he  said,  a great  longing  to  smoke 
a pipe  of  tobacco,  and  as  this  was  the  last 
act  of  grace  he  should  ask  for  in  this  world, 
he  hoped  they  would  not  be  so  cruel  as  to 
refuse  him. 

So  the  King  allowed  them  to  accede  to 
his  request:  and  the  soldier  took  out  his 
flint  and  steel,  and  struck  one,  two,  three 
times;  when  presently  all  three  enchanted 
dogs  stood  before  him;  the  one  with  the 
iaucer-eyes,  as  well  as  the  other  two  with 


€\ \i  €initrr-38ni. 


eyes  like  mill- wheels  and  the  Round  Tow« 
er  at  Copenhagen. 

" Help  me.  out  of  my  difficulty !”  called 
the  soldier  to  the  dogs.  “ Don’t  let  them 
hang  me !” 

Thereupon  the  three  frightful  dogs  fell  on 
the  judge  and  the  councillors,  seized  one 
by  the  leg,  another  by  the  nose,  and  tossed 
them  high  up  in  the  air,  so  that  in  tum- 
bling down  they  were  immediately  dashed 
to  pieces. 

‘We  are  not  graciously  pleased ” 

cried  the  King ; but  the  dogs  cared  little  for 
that,  and  took  King  and  Queen,  one  after 
the  other,  and  tossed  them  like  the  rest  in 
the  air. 

Then  the  soldiers  grew  frightened,  and 
the  people  called  out,  “ Good  soldier,  you 
shall  be  our  King,  and  you  shall  have  the 
beautiful  Princess  for  a wife  !” 

Then  the  soldier  seated  himself  in  the 
King’s  carriage,  and  all  three  dogs  danced 
in  front  of  it,  and  shouted  “ Hurrah!”  The 
boys  in  the  street  whistled,  and  the  soldier« 
presented  arms. 

M 


€ljr  Æmhr-Uoi. 


Now  the  Princess  was  liberated  from  the 
brazen  castle,  and  was  made  Queen,  which 
she  liked  very  much.  The  wedding  festivi- 
ties lasted  eight  days,  and  the  dogs  seated 
themselves  at  table,  and  stared  at  every 
body  with  their  great  eyes. 


about  with  fire  nnd  sword;  his  soldiers 
trampled  down  the  com  in  the  fields,  and 
burned  the  houses  of  the  peasants,  so  that 

die  red  flame  seemed  to  lick  the  leaves  off 

S3 


$jnf  føirtøi  ling. 

the  trees,  and  the  fruit  hung  roasted  from 
the  black  and  scorched  boughs.  Many  a 
poor  mother  hid  herself,  with  her  little 
naked  baby,  behind  the  smoking  walls,  and 
the  soldiers  searched  for  them  till  they  found 
both  herself  and  her  child,  and  then  began 
their  cruel  joy.  Wicked  spiritscould  not  have 
done  more  shocking  things  than  they  did; 
but  the  king  thought  this  was  just  as  it 
should  be. 

Day  by  day  his  power  increased;  his 
name  became  a terror  to  every  one,  and 
fortune  favored  him  in  all  that  he  did.  He 
brought  home  large  heaps  of  gold  and 
treasure  from  the  cities  that  he  conquered ; 
and  in  his  own  royal  city  such  wealth  was 
stored  up  as  never  was  seen  in  any  other 
place.  Now  he  had  splendid  castles  and 
palaces  built;  and  every  one  who  saw 
these  glorious  things  said,  “ What  a great 
king!”  They  never  thought  of  the  distress 
he  had  brought  upon  other  countries ; they 
never  heard  the  sighs  and  groans  that  rose 
from  the  towns  which  he  had  laid  in 
ashes. 

54 


€\)t  iUirkrlt  Tung. 


The  king  gazed  on  his  gold,  and  on  hi« 
gorgeous  palaces ; and  then,  like  many 
other  people,  he  thought,  “What  a great 
king  am  I ! but  I must  have  still  more, 
much  more.  No  power  must  be  called 
equal  to,  and  certainly  none  shall  be  greater 
than  mine !” 

So  he  began  at  once  to  make  war  upon  all 
his  neighbors,  and  he  conquered  them  all. 
He  had  the  vanquished  princes  fastened  to 
his  chariot  by  chains  of  gold  when  he 
drove  through  the  streets;  and  when  he  sat 
at  table,  they  had  to  lie  at  his  feet,  and  at 
the  feet  of  his  courtiers,  and  pick  up  the 
crumbs  that  were  thrown  to  them. 

Now  the  king  had  his  image  set  up  in  the 
public  squares  and  royal  palaces:  yes,  he 
even  wanted  it  to  stand  in  the  churches 
before  the  altar  of  the  Lord ; but  the  priests 
said,  “O  King,  thou  art  great,  but  God  is 
greater  : we  dare  not  do  this.” 

“Well,  then,”  said  the  wicked  king,  41 1 
will  overcome  Him  also!” 

And  in  the  pride  and  folly  of  his  heart,  he 
had  a beautiful  ship  built,  which  could  sail 

55 

\ 


Ætrr  IBirkttr  Kling* 


through  the  air.  It  was  as  gay  in  color  a* 
the  tail  of  the  peacock,  and  seemed  furnish- 
ed with  a thousand  eyes;  hut  every  eye 
was  the  muzzle  of  a gun-barrel.  The  King 
sat  in  the  middle  of  the  ship ; then  he  had 
only  to  press  a spring,  and  thousands  of 
balls  would  fly  out,  while  the  guns  were 
found  loaded  again,  just  as  they  had  been 
before.  Hundreds  of  mighty  eagles  were 
harnessed  to  the  ship : and  so,  now  that  all 
was  ready,  it  rose  in  the  air,  and  flew  up 
towards  the  sun. 

The  earth  soon  lay  far  down  below  him. 
At  first,  with  its  mountains  and  its  woods, 
it  looked  like  a ploughed  field,  where  the 
green  blades  of  grass  peep  out  from  among 
the  broken  clods  of  turf ; then  it  was  like  a 
smooth  map  of  the  world,  and  soon  after 
this  it  was  hidden  in  mist  and  cloud. 
Higher  and  higher  flew  the  eagles. 

But,  behold,  God  sent  a single  one  from 
His  countless  host  of  angels,  and  the  king 
shot  thousands  of  balls  at  him;  but  the 
hard  balls  rebounded  like  hail  from  the 
angel’s  shining  wings.  One  drop  of  blood 
56 


€lj?  Sirkeii  ling. 


only,  one  single  drop,  came  trickling  from 
his  snow-white  plumes.  This  drop  fell 
upon  the  ship  in  which  the  king  was  sitting: 
it  burnt  itself  into  it,  and  weighing  down 
the  vessel  like  a thousand  fothcrs  of  lead,  it 
Dore  it  with  awful  violence  towards  the 
earth. 

The  strong  wings  of  the  eagles  were 
broken ; the  wind  whistled  round  the  head 
of  the  king ; and  the  clouds  around  him, 
which  were  made  of  the  smoke  of  the 
burnt  cities,  took  the  threatening  form  of 
griffins,  many  miles  long,  that  stretched  out 
their  strong  claws  at  him;  or  now  they 
looked  like  rolling  rocks  and  dragons  vomit- 
ing fire. 

The  king  lay  half  dead  at  the  bottom  ol 
the  ship,  which  was  caught,  at  last,  in  the 
thick  branches  of  the  forest. 

“I  will  conquer  heaven,”  said  he.  “I 
ha/e  sworn  that  I will,  and  it  shall  be 
done.” 

So  for  the  next  seven  years  he  had  ships 
cleverly  built  for  sailing  through  the  air; 
he  had  Hashes  of  lightning  forged  from  the 

AT 


Æjje  !#irkå  ling. 


hardest  steel ; for  he  was  bent  on  riving  the 
bulwarks  of  heaven.  From  all  the  countries 
he  ruled  over,  large  armies  were  levied, 
which  covered  a circuit  of  several  miles 
when  they  were  drawn  up  in  order  man 
by  man. 

They  embarked  in  the  ship  she  had  so  cun* 
ningly  contrived,  and  he  himself  drew  near 
to  the  one  which  he  was  to  sail  in.  It  was 
then  that  God  sent  a swarm  of  gnats  against 
him,- -one  little  swarm  of  gnats.  They 
buzzed  round  the  king,  and  stung  him  on 
his  face  and  hands.  He  drew  his  sword  in 
anger,  but  he  only  fought  the  empty  air, 
for  he  could  not  touch  the  gnats.  There- 
fore he  ordered  silken  robes  to  be  brought : 
he  bade  them  wind  these  around  him,  that 
not  a gnat  should  be  able  to  reach  him  with 
its  sting ; and  they  did  as  he  commanded. 

But  one  little  gnat  lighted  on  the  inside 
of  the  robes:  it  crept  into  the  King’s  ear, 
and  stung  him  there.  The  wound  burned 
like  fire ; the  poison  rose  to  his  brain.  lie 
tore  off  the  silken  coverings,  and  dashed 
them  from  him;  then,  rending  his  clothes, 
58 


€\)t  Itfitkfi)  Hing. 


he  danced  naked  and  mad  before  the  ruda 
wild  soldiers;  while  they,  in  their  turn, 
jeered  at  the  mad  and  wicked  King,  who 
had  thought  of  fighting  with  God,  and  who 
yet  had  been  oveitoow  by  one  single  little 
gnat. 


\ 


«>r 

Utøoltrtt  ItÉett  inlbitr. 


HERE  were,  once 
upon  a time,  five-and- 
twenty  leaden  soldiers, 
all  brothers ; for  they 
had  all  been  made  out 
of  an  old  metal  spoon. 
They  “ carried  aims,” 
and  stood  there  every  one  of  them  with  their 
“eyes  right.”  Their  uniform  was  red  and 
blue,  and  was  quite  beautiful.  The  very 
first  thing  they  heard  in  this  world  when 
the  cover  was  taken  off  the  box,  was, 
“Leaden  Soldiers  1”  These  words  were 
60 


€\}i  E?snl&ti>  I Eaton  Inltofr. 


ottered  by  a little  boy  who  clapped  hia 
hands  for  joy;  they  had  been  given  him 
because  it  was  his  birthday,  and  he  now 
set  them  out  upon  the  table.  One  soldier 
was  exactly  a counterpart  of  the  other ; a 
single  one  only  was  somewhat  different  from 
the  rest — he  had  but  one  leg.  He  had  been 
cast  the  last  of  all,  and  there  was  not  lead 
enough  left;  yet  he  stood  on  his  one  leg 
quite  as  firmly  as ‘the  others  on  two;  and  it 
is  this  very  soldier  whose  fate  is  so  remark- 
able. 

On  the  table  where  they  were  set  up 
many  other  playthings  were  lying;  but 
what  was  most  attractive  to  the  eye  was  a 
pretty  little  castle  of  pasteboard.  Through 
the  little  windows  one  could  see  right  into 
the  apartments.  Before  the  castle  little 
trees  were  standing  round  a little  mirror 
which  was  meant  for  a lake;  and  swans, 
made  of  wax,  swam  about  on  it,  and  were 
reflected  in  the  water.  All  was  so  nice  and 
pretty  ; but  the  nicest  of  all  was  a little 
damsel  that  stood  in  the  open  entrance  to 
the  castle.  She  was  cut  out  of  paper,  but 

61 


tøjl*  tonlute  tnhn  InlMtr. 


she  had  on  a dress  of  the  finest  gauze,  and 
a narrow  blue  riband  over  her  shoulders, 
and  in  the  middle  of  this  was  a glittering 
spangle,  which  was  just  as  large  as  her 
whole  face. 

The  little  lady  stretched  out  both  her  arms, 
for  she  was  a dancer,  and  at  the  same  time 
lifted  one  leg  so  high  in  the  air  that  the 
leaden  Soldier  could  not  find  it,  and  he  might 
almost  have  fancied  she  had  but  one  leg, 
like  himself. 

“ She  would  make  a good  wife  for  me,” 
thought  he,  “but  she  is  rather  a high 
personage.  She  lives  in  a castle  ; 7 have 
only  a wooden-box,  and  there,  too,  are  our 
five-and-twenty  men:  that’s  not  a place 
for  her!  However,  I will  try  to  get  ac- 
quainted with  her.” 

And  then  he  laid  himself  at  full  length 
behind  a snuff-box  that  was  standing  on  the 
table ; whence  he  could  have  a perfect  view 
of  the  little  fine  lady  that  stood  on  one  leg 
without  losing  her  balance. 

As  evening  drew  in,  all  the  other  soldiers 
came  into  their  box,  and  the  people  in  the 


€Ijp  Brsnlnte  Trnkn  lolftirr. 


house  went  to  bed.  Then  the  toys  began 
to  play,  and  amuse  themselves, — they  play- 
ed at  visiting,  and  at  dancing  the  polka, 
and  at  war. 

The  soldiers  in  the  box  made  a rattle;  for 
they  Avanted  to  join  the  game,  but  the  cover 
would  not  come  off.  The  nutcrackers 
threw  a sommerset,  and  the  slate-pencil 
jumped  about  on  the  slate ; it  was  such  a 
sight  that  even  the  canary-bird  awoke,  and 
began  to  talk  with  the  rest,  and  in  verse, 
too,  into  the  bargain. 

The  only  two  who  did  not  move  from 
their  places  were  the  leaden  Soldier  and  the 
little  Dancer;  she  remained  in  her  graceful 
position  on  tip-toe  with  outstretched  arms; 
and  he  stood  just  as  firm  on  his  one  leg, 
and  never  took  his  eyes  from  off  her  even 
for  a moment. 

Now  the  clock  struck  twelve.  Suddenly 
the  cover  of  the  snuff-box  flew  open ; but 
there  was  no  snuff  in  it.  No,  out  sprung  a 
little  black  Magician,  for  it  was  a conjuring- 

box. 


69 


€\ ]t  tonhtfe  Tmhu  InRtitr. 

“Soldier!”  cried  the  Magician,  “will 
mu  keep  your  eyes  to  yourself?” 

But  the  leaden  Soldier  pretended  that  he 
did  not  hear. 

“Well!  only  wait!  to-morrow!”  said  the 
magician. 

When  the  morning  was  come,  and  the 
children  were  out  of  bed,  the  soldier  was 
placed  in  the  window,  and, — whether  the 
Magician  did  it,  or  the  wind,  that  I don’t 
know, — all  at  once  the  window  flew  open, 
and  the  Soldier  fell  down  head  over  heels 
from  the  third  story  into  the  street.  It 
was  a frightful  descent!  He  struck  one 
leg  into  the  air,  and  remained  standing  on 
his  military  cap,  with  his  bayonet  between 
the  stones. 

The  maid  and  the  little  boy  ran  down 
directly  to  look  for  him ; but,  although  they 
nearly  trod  on  him,  they  could  not  see  him. 
Had  but  the  soldier  cried  out  “Here  I am !” 
they  might  have  found  him ; but  he  did  not 
deem  it  proper  to  .call  out  loud  because  he 
was  in  uniform. 

It  now  began  to  rain,  one  drop  fell  thicket 
«4 


€\)t  Ursolntø  l'cniiru  ånlMfr. 

than  the  other;  till  it  came  in  a perfect 
torrent.  When  it  was  over  two  little  beys 
came  by. 

“ Look  here  !”  said  one.  “ Here  is  a 
eaden  Soldier ! Let  us  give  him  a sail  in 
a boat !” 

And  they  made  a boat  out  of  a newspaper, 
put  the  soldier  in  it,  and  now,  there  he  was 
sailing  along  down  the  gutter.  Both  the 
little  boy?  ran  by  the  side  clapping  their 
hands. 

Dear  me ! what  waves  were  rolling  ir  the 
gutter,  and  what  a torrent  it  was ! for  the 
shower  was  a pretty  smart  one,  I can  tell 
you.  The  paper  boat  heaved  and  fell,  and 
now  and  then  mado  such  turns  that  the 
leaden  Soldier  became  quite  giddy ; but  he 
was  resolute,  never  changed  countenance, 
kept  his  “eyes  right,”  and  “carried  arms” 
as  before.  All  at  once  the  boat  was  driven 
into  a long  covered  drain;  it  was  as  dark  to 
the  Soldier  as  if  he  were  in  his  own  wooden 
box. 

“Where  am  1 going  to  now!”  thought 
he.  “ Yes,  yes,  this  is  the  Magician’s 
5 H 11  ss 


€lj i lUønlntt  Xnhn  Into, 


iloings ! Oh,  were  the  little  maiden  with 
me  in  the  boat,  darkness  and  all  else  were 
indifferent  to  me !” 

At  the  same  moment  a large  water-rat, 
that  lived  in  the  drain,  made  his  appear- 
ance. 

“Where’s  your  passport?”  asked  the  rat; 
“ out  with  your  passport !” 

But  the  soldier  was  silent,  and  held  his 
musket  the  tighter.  The  boat  drove  on- 
ward, the  rat  pursuing.  How  horribly  he 
gnashed  his  teeth,  and  how  dreadful  it  was 
to  hear  him  cry  out  to  the  straws  and  float- 
ing bits  of  wood : 

“Stop  him!  stop  him!  he  has  defrauded 
the  customs  ! He  has  not  shown  his  pass- 
port !” 

But  the  stream  grew  stronger  and  stronger. 
Already  could  the  soldiers  see  the  light  of 
day  before  he  got  to  the  end  of  the  drain, 
but  he  heard,  too,  a roaring  sound,  at  which 
the  bravest  heart  would  have  quaked. 
Only  imagine ! at  the  spot  where  the  drain 
ended,  the  water  of  the  gutter  was  precipi- 
tated headlong  into  a great  canal : for  the 


(E^jre  Hcsnlnte  Irn&ru  #oltør. 

Soldier,  that  was  as  dangerous  as  descend- 
ing a mighty  cataract.  k 

He  was  already  so  near  that  to  stop  was 
impossible ; the  boat  shot  forward ; the  poor 
leaden  Soldier  stood  as  upright  as  he  could, 
for  no  one  could  say  of  him  that  he  had 
even  winked  his  eyes.  The  boat  whirled 
round  three,  four  times,  and  was  filled  with 
water  up  to  the  very  edge.  Sink  it  must. 
The  soldier  was  up  to  his  neck  in  water : 
deeper  and  deeper  sank  the  boat,  and  looser 
and  looser  became  the  paper.  At  last  the 
water  went  over  the  Soldier’s  head;  he 
thought  of  the  pretty  little  Dancer  that  he 
was  never  to  see  again,  and  the  words  of 
the  song, 

O warrior  ! dangers  must  thou  brave. 

And  death  must  be  thy  portion, 

sounded  in  his  ears.  Then  the  paper  fell 
to  pieces,  the  leaden  Soldier  tumbled  out — 
but  at  that  very  moment  a large  fish  swal- 
lowed him. 

Well  to  be  sure,  how  dark  it  was ! It 
was  darker  here  than  in  the  drain;  and, 

67 


tøjl*  tenlute  Irniirn  Inlfc 


besides,  there  was  so  little  room.  But  tin 
leaden  Soldier  was  resolute ; there  he  lay  aV 
full  length,  and  still  “carried  arms.” 

The  fish  darted  hither  and  thither;  he 
moved  about  in  the  most  terrible  manner, 
and  at  last  he  was  quite  still.  Something 
like  a ray  of  light  darted  through  him ; all 
was  bright  and  clear,  and  a voice  cried, 
“ The  leaden  Soldier !”  The  fish  had  been 
caught,  taken  to  market,  bought,  and  sent 
into  the  kitchen,  where  the  cook  cut  it  open 
with  a large  knife.  She  took  the  Soldier  by 
the  waist  with  her  finger  and  thumb,  and 
carried  him  up  stairs,  where  everybody  was 
eager  to  see  the  remarkable  man  that  had 
made  a journey  in  the  inside  of  a fish.  But 
the  Soldier  was  not  proud.  They  put  him 
on  the  table,  and — no!  how  wondrotrly 
things  fall  out  in  this  world ! — he  wai  in 
the  very  same  room  where  he  had  t en 
before ; he  saw  the  same  children ; the  s ne 
toys  were  upon  the  table — the  beautiful 
castle  with  the  pretty  little  Dancer  standing 
at  the  door — all  were  the  same ! She  stood 
upon  one  leg  still,  and  held  the  other  high 
68 


Ælj?  ftraalnh  Iratirn  lolMrr. 


in  the  air:  she,  too,  was  resolute.  Th« 
leaden  Soldier  was  quite  affected  at  the 
thought,  and  he  could  have  wept  tears  of 
lead,  but  that  it  did  not  become  him  to 
do  so.  He  gazed  at  her,  and  she  gazed  on 
him ; but  they  spoke  not  a word. 

At  that  moment  one  of  the  little  boys  took 
up  the  Soldier,  flung  him  without  more  ado 
into  the  fire  ! He  gave  no  reason  for  doing 
so;  but  it  was,  doubtless,  the  work  of  the 
Magician  in  the  snuff-box. 

There  stood  the  Soldier  in  a blaze  of  light 
He  felt  a terrible  glow ; but  whether  it  arose 
from  the  fire  or  from  love,  he  knew  not. 
He  had  completely  changed  color;  how- 
ever, I am  unable  to  say  whether  that 
happened  on  account  of  his  long  journey,  or 
was  the  consequence  of  his  agitation.  He 
looked  at  the  little  damsel,  she  looked  at 
him,  and  he  felt  that  he  was  melting;  but 
there  he  stood,  still  resolute,  and  “carried 
arms.” 

Suddenly  a door  opened,  the  wind  caught 
the  Dancer,  and,  like  a sylph ide,  she  flew 


<EJj*  'tenlntø  Men  Inlit in. 

straight  into  the  fire  to  the  leaden  Sol  dier  > 
blazed  up,  and — she  was  gone  ! 

The  Soldier  melted  together  in  a lump,  and 
the  next  morning,  when  the  maid  came  to 
take  away  the  ashes,  she  found  his  remains 
in  the  form  of  a little  leaden  heart.  Of  the 
Dancer,  however,  nothing  but  the  spang] 4 
remained,  and  that  was  burnt  as  black  as  a 
coal. 


T» 


€ljt  #nrhm  nf  parodist. 


OULD  you  like  to 
hear  about  the 
Garden  of  Para- 
dise? Well  then, 
I will  tell  you  that 
once  upon  a time 
there  lived  the  son 
of  a King;  nobody 
ever  had  so  many 
and  such  beautiful  books  as  he;  and  in  them 
he  could  read  of  all  the  events  that  had 
ever  happened  in  the  world,  and  sec  them 
represented  in  magnificent  pictures.  From 

71 


<$\)i  (Størkn  nf  Itøritøk. 

them  he  could  get  information  about  every 
country  and  every  people:  but  of  where 
the  Garden  of  Paradise  was  to  be  found, 
not  a word  was  said;  and  Iliac  v^as  the 
very  thing  he  thought  most  of  and  mos« 
wished  to  know. 

While  the  Prince  was  stiil  quite  a little 
boy.  and  just  when  he  ought  to  have  been 
sent  to  school,  his  grandmother  told  him 
that  every  flower  in  the  Garden  of  Paradise 
was  made  of  the  sweetest  cake,  and  its 
stamina  of  the  choicest  wine : on  one  plant 
grew  history,  on  another  geography,  on  a 
third  the  German  language;  so  that  one 
only  need  eat  the  cakes  in  order  to  know 
one’s  lesson  perfectly;  and  the  more  one 
ete  the  more  one  learned,  and  the  more  one 
understood  of  history,  geography,  or  Ger- 
man. 

At  that  time  the  young  Prince  believed 
all  this ; but  by  degrees,  as  he  grew  older 
and  wiser,  he  saw  very  well  that  the  glory 
of  the  Garden  of  Paradise  must  be  a very 
different  sort  of  thing. 

“ Oh,  why  did  Five  pluck  the  fruit  from 
72 


Ærntøn  nf  ^nrnMff. 


the  tree  of  knowledge?  Why  did  Adam 
eat  of  what  was  forbidden?  [ ought  to 
have  been  there,  and  then  it  would  not 
have  happened ! Never  should  sin  have 
entered  into  the  world  !” 

So  spoke  he  then  ; and  so  he  sj>okc  still, 
when  he  was  seventeen  years  old.  The 
Garden  of  Paradise  occupied  all  his 
thoughts. 

One  day  he  strolled  into  the  forest.  He 
was  alone;  for  to  be  so  was  his  greatest 
pleasure. 

The  evening  was  closing  in,  the  clouds 
were  gathering,  and  it  began  to  rain  as  if 
the  whole  heavens  were  one  great  floodgate 
from  which  the  water  was  bursting.  It 
was,  too,  as  dark  as  it  could  be  at  night  in 
the  deepest  well.  Now  he  slipped  on  the 
wet  grass,  now  he  stumbled  over  bare 
stones  which  were  scattered  over  the  rocky 
ground. 

He  was,  besides,  dripping  wet : the  poor 
Prince  had  not  a dry  thread  on  his  body. 
He  was  forced  to  climb  over  huge  blocks  of 
stone,  where  the  water  trickled  down  from 

73 


u 


€!jt  Æartøtt  nf  f nrnto. 


the  high  moss.  He  was  near  falling  from 
fatigue,  when  he  heard  a strange  humming 
noise ; and  before  him  he  saw  a large  illu- 
mined cavern.  In  the  middle  of  it  burned 
a fire,  at  which  a buck  might  have  been 
roasted  whole.  And  it  was  the  case  too ; — 
a very  fine  buck,  with  zig-zag  antlers,  was 
stuck  on  the  spit,  and  turned  slowly 
between  two  enormous  pine-trees.  An 
elderly  woman,  tall  and  strong,  as  though 
she  were  a man  in  disguise,  sat  by  the  fire, 
and  threw  in  one  piece  of  Avood  after 
another. 

“ Come,  come  nearer,”  said  she,  seeing 
the  Prince;  “seat  yourself  by  the  fire,  and 
dry  your  clothes.” 

“ There’s  a terrible  draught  here,”  said 
the  Prince,  and  he  sat  down  on  the  floor  of 
the  cave. 

“ That  will  be  still  worse  when  my  sons 
come  home,”  said  the  woman.  “You  are 
in  the  Cavern  of  the  Winds;  my  sons  are 
the  Four  Winds  of  the  world.  Do  you  un- 
derstand me?” 


Ælj t Ænriirn  nf  'jJnrntø'sr. 

“Where  are  your  sons?”  asked  the 
Prince. 

“Stupid  questions  are  not  easily  answer- 
ed,” said  the  woman.  “ My  sons  live  just 
as  they  please;  they  play  at  ball  with  the 
clouds  up  there,”  and  so  saying  she  pointed 
to  the  sky  above. 

“ Oh,  indeed !”  said  the  Prince,  “ as  to 
yourself,  you  speak  rather  roughly,  and  are 
altogether  not  so  gentle  as  the  women  that  I 
generally  see  around  me.” 

“Yes;  they,  I suppose,  have  nothing  else 
to  do.  I must  be  harsh,  if  I am  to  keep  my 
boys  in  order : but  I can  do  it,  though  they 
have  stiff  necks  of  their  own  ! I)o  you  see 
those  four  sacks  yonder  by  the  wall?  they 
stand  as  much  in  awe  of  them  as  you  once 
did  of  the  rod  on  the  shelf.  I bang  them 
together,  let  me  tell  you,  and  then  off  they 
march  into  the  sack;  we  don’t  stand  on 
much  ceremony  here, — there  they  sit,  nor 
do  they  come  out  till  I choose  to  let  them. 
Hut  see,  here  is  one  of  them  !” 

With  that  in  came  the  North  Wind.  He 
entered  with  an  icy  coldness;  large  haih 

74 


tøjl*  inrtirn  nf  ^amidst 


stones  danced  upon  the  ground  and  flakes 
of  snow  flew  about  him.  He  had  on  a 
jacket  and  trowsers  of  bear-skin ; a seal-skin 
cap  hung  over  his  ears;  long  icicles  were 
hanging  at  his  beard,  and  one  hailstone 
after  the  other  slipped  out  from  under  his 
jacket-collar. 

“ But  don’t  go  to  the  fire  directly !”  said 
the  Prince.  “ Your  face  and  hands  might 
get  frostbitten !” 

“ Frostbitten !”  said  the  North  Wind, 
laughing  loudly;  “Frostbitten!  why  that 
is  just  my  greatest  delight ! But  pray  who 
are  you,  Mr.  Spindleshanks  ? How  came 
you  into  the  Cavern  of  the  Winds?” 

“He  is  my  guest,”  said  the  old  woman , 
“and  if  you  are  not  satisfied  with  the 
; explanation,  you  shall  be  off  to  the  sack. 
So  now  you  know  my  mind.” 

This  had  the  desired  effect;  and  the 
North  Wind  sat  down  and  related  whence 
he  came,  and  where  he  had  been  the  whole 
month. 

“ I came  from  the  Arctic  Ocean  : I have 
been  on  Bear  Island,”  said  he,  with  the 
7 r» 


€([?  (Mrn  nf  ^nrailiw. 


Russian  whale- fishers.  I sat  and  slept  at 
the  helm  as  they  sailed  past  the  North 
Cape.  When  I now  and  then  awoke  up  a 
little,  the  stormy-petrel  flew  about  my  legs; 
it  is  a strange  bird  1 he  gives  a quick  stroke 
with  his  wings,  and  then  keeps  them 
stretched  out  immoveably,  and  needs  no 
further  exertion.” 

“ Do  not  make  your  story  so  long,”  said 
the  Mother  of  the  Winds.  “And  so  you 
rame  to  Bear  Island?” 

“’Tis  splendid  there!  The  ground  is 
like  a floor  just  fit  for  dancing,  as  flat  as  a 
hoard  ! Half-thawed  snow  and  moss,  sharp 
stones,  and  the  skeletons  of  whales  and 
polar  bears  lay  about,  and  they  looked 
exactly  like  the  legs  and  arms  of  giants 
covered  over  with  a mouldy  green.  One 
would  think  the  sun  never  shone  upon 
them.  I blew  aside  the  mist  a little,  that  I 
might  see  the  hut.  That  was  a fine  house ! 
It  was  built  of  the  remains  of  a wreck,  and 
covered  with  the  Skin  of  a whale;  the 
fleshy  side  outwards,  all  green  and  red 
ami  on  the  roof  there  sat  a live  polar  bear 

11 


€1;p  Norton  nf  ^ntaMro. 


ad  growled.  I went  along  the  shore, 
»oked  into  the  birds’  nests,  and  saw  the 
'-‘allow  young  ones  screaming  and  chirping 
with  open  mouths ; so  I blew  into  their 
throats  by  thousands,  and  then  they  learned 
to  shut  their  mouths.  Beneath  me  the 
walruses  tumbled  about,  looking  like  gigan- 
tic worms  with  heads  of  swine  and  tusks  an 
ell  long.” 

“You  tell  your  story  well,  my  son,”  ex- 
claimed the  mother;  “ it  makes  one  freeze 
to  listen  to  you.” 

“ Now,  then,  the  fishing  began ; the  har- 
poon was  thrust  into  the  breast  of  the 
walrus,  and  the  reeking  stream  of  blood 
spouted  like  a fountain  over  the  ice.  Then 
I thought  of  my  part  of  the  sport.  I gave  a 
blast,  and  made  my  ships,  the  stupendous 
icebergs,  hem  in  the  boats.  Ha,  ha ! how 
the  crew  all  whistled  and  shouted,  but  1 
whistled  louder ! The  pieces  of  the  dead 
whales,  chests,  and  tackle — all  were  obliged 
to  be  unpacked  upon  the  ice.  I shook 
snow-flakes  about  them,  and  sent  them  and 
tb sir  boat,  locked  up  in  the  ice,  drifting  to 
7« 


Darien  nf  $nrnbtø. 


Ihe  southward,  to  get  a taste  of  salt-water 
They  won’t  make  their  appearance  at  Bear 
Island  again !” 

“You  have  been  doing  mischief,  then!” 
said  the  Mother  of  the  Winds. 

“ The  good  I have  done  others  may  re- 
late,” said  he;  “but  here  comes  my  brother 
from  the  West;  I love  him  best  of  all — he 
smells  so  of  the  sea,  and  he  has  such  a 
healthy  cold  about  him.” 

“Is  that  delicate  little  Zephyr?”  asked 
the  Prince. 

“Yes,  to  be  sure  it  is,”  said  the  old 
woman;  “but  he  is  no  longer  so  very  deli- 
cate cither.  Once  upon  a time  he  was  a 
nice,  mild  little  fellow,  but  that’s  all  over 
now.” 

The  West  Wind  looked  like  a wild  man, 
but  on  his  head  he  had  a sort  of  padded 
covering,  to  save  him  from  hurt.  In  his 
hand  he  held  a club  of  mahogany,  hewn  in 
the  American  forests.  Nothing  less  than  this 
would  have  done. 

“ Where  do  you  come  from  1”  inquired 
his  old  mother. 

r» 


€ju  #nrkn  nf  ^araiiirø. 


“From  the  forest  wilderness,”  said  he, 
“where  the  thorny  lianas  form  a hedge 
between  every  tree,  where  the  water-snakes 
lie  in  the  wet  grass,  and  where  man  seems 
to  be  useless.” 

“What  did  you  do  there?” 

“ I looked  into  the  deep  river,  saw  how  it 
rolled  from  the  rocks,  and  dashed  into  spray, 
flew  up  towards  the  clouds,  and  gave  form 
to  the  rainbow.  I saw  a buffalo  swimming 
in  the  stream,  but  the  current  bore  him 
down : he  drifted  onwards  with  a flock  of 
wild-fowls ; they  flew  away  when  the  water 
swept  over  the  precipice,  but  the  buffalo 
was  forced  to  plunge  over  with  it.  That 
pleased  me,  and  I blew  such  a hurricane 
that  the  primeval  trees  were  hurled  crack- 
ing to  the  earth,  and  were  crashed  to 
atoms.” 

“And  have  you  done  nothing  else?” 
isked  the  old  woman. 

“ I have  tumbled  head  over  heels  in  the 
Savannahs,  I have  chased  the  wild  horses, 
and  rattled  down  the  cocoa-nuts.  Yes, 
yes ; I have  enough  to  tell  about.  But  one 
80 


€Ijp  Ænrtirn  of  'fttrnilw. 


must  not  tell  all  one  knows ; that  you  know 
very  well,  old  mammy.”  And  so  saying, 
he  kissed  his  mother  to  such  a degree  that 
she  nearly  tumbled  down.  He  was  a wild 
fellow,  that  West  Wind  ! 

Now  came  in  the  South  Wind ; he  had 
a turban  on  his  head  and  a flying  Bedouin 
mantle. 

“ It’s  cold  enough  here,”  said  he,  throwing 
wood  upon  the  fire ; “ one  can  very  well 
feel  that  the  North  Wind  was  here  before 
me.” 

“It’s  so  hot  here  that  one  might  roast  a 
polar  bear,”  said  the  North  Wind. 

“ You  are  a polar  bear  yourself,”  said  the. 
South  Wind. 

“Do  you  want  to  be  put  in  the  sack?” 
asked  the  old  woman.  “Sit  down  there  on 
the  stone,  and  tell  where  you  have  been,  and 
what  you  have  done.” 

“In  Africa,  mother,”  answered  he.  “I 
have  been  lion-hunting  with  the  Hottentots 
in  the  land  of  the  Cadres.  What  fine  grass 
grows  there  in  the  plains,  as  green  as  the 
olive ! There  frisked  the  gnu,  and  th* 
6 si 


€jn i cønriirn  nf  ^nrnMør. 


ostrich  ran  races  with  me;  but  1 am  swiftei 
than  he.  I came  to  the  desert,  to  the  yellow 
sand : it  looks  like  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 
1 met  a caravan ; they  killed  their  last 
camel  to  get  water  to  drink,  but  they  did 
not  get  much.  From  above  they  were 
scorched  by  the  sun,  from  below  they  were 
burned  by  the  sand.  The  vast  desert  was 
endless.  There  I rolled  myself  in  the  fine 
loose  sand,  and  in  great  pillars  whirled  it 
up  into  the  air.  Oh,  it  was  a glorious 
dance ! You  should  have  seen  how  stupi- 
fied  the  dromedary  stood,  and  how  the 
merchant  drew  his  caften  over  his  head ! 
He  threw  himself  down  before  me,  as  before 
Allah,  his  God.  Now  they  are  all  buried, 
but  a pyramid  of  sand  stands  above  them. 
When  some  day  or  other  I blow  it  away, 
the  sun  will  bleach  the  white  bones,  and 
travellers  may  see  that  men  have  been 
there  before  them.  But  for  this  no  one 
would  believe  it  in  the  desert.” 

aSo,  then,  you  have  done  nothing  but 
evil,”  said  his  mother.  “ March ! to  the 
sack  ! ’ And  before  he  was  aware  of  it,  sho 
82 


€|je  ÆnriiEit  nf  ^nrnMsf. 


had  seized  hold  of  the  South  Wind  by  th« 
hotly,  and — into  the  sack  with  him.  The 
bag  with  him  in  it  kicked  and  rolled  about 
the  floor ; but  she  seized  it,  held  it  fast  and 
aat  down  on  it,  and  then  he  was  forced  to 
he  still. 

“ They  are  desperately  wild  fellows,  these 
sons  of  yours  !”  said  the  Prince. 

“Yes,  indeed  they  are,”  answered  she, 
“but  they  must  obey  for  all  that.  Ilal 
here  we  have  the  fourth.” 

This  was  the  East  Wind,  who  was  dress- 
ed like  a Chinese. 

“ What ! arc  you  come  from  that  corner 
of  the  world  ?”  said  his  mother.  “ I thought 
you  had  been  to  the  Garden  of  Paradise?” 

“ I am  going  there  to-morrow,”  said  the 
East  Wind;  “to-morrow  it  will  be  a hun- 
dred years  since  I was  there.  I come  from 
China  now,  where  I danced  round  the  por 
celain  tower  till  I set  all  the  bells  a-tinkling 
Below  in  the  street  the  officers  of  state  go. 
Buch  a beating  that  the  bamboo-canes  split 
across  their  shoulders  ; and  these  were  per- 
sonages from  the  first  to  the  ninth  degreo 

so 


€1jb  (ønr&EE  nf  ^arnMsr. 


They  called  out,  1 Thanks,  thanks,  paternal 
benefactor !’  but  they  didn’t  mean  it;  and  I 
tinkled  the  bells  all  the  while,  and  sang, 
‘ Tsing.  tsang,  tsu !’” 

“You  are  a harum-scarum  youth,”  said 
the  old  woman.  “It  is  a good  thing  you 
are  going  to  the  Garden  of  Paradise  to- 
morrow; your  education  requires  it,  and 
your  visit  there  always  contributes  to  your 
improvement.  Do  but  drink  deep  of  the 
fountain  of  wisdom,  and  bring  a little  bottle- 
ful for  me.” 

“I  will,”  said  the  East  Wind;  “but  why 
have  you  put  my  brother  from  the  south 
into  the  sack?  Let  him  out;  he  must  tell 
me  about  the  phoenix ; about  this  bird  the 
Princess  in  the  Garden  of  Paradise  wants 
always  to  hear  something,  when  I go  to 
pay  my  visit  every  hundred  years.  Open 
the  sack;  you  are  my  own  sweet  dear  little 
mother ; and  I’ll  give  you  two  pocketsful  of 
tea,  quite  fresh  and  green,  just  as  I picked 
it  myself  on  the  spot.” 

“ Well,  then,  for  the  sake  of  the  tea,  and 


84 


€Jje  (ønrforu  nf  ^nraMn. 


oocausc,  after  all,  you  are  my  darling,  I’ll 
oj^n  the  sack.” 

And  she  did  so,  and  the  South  Wind 
crept  out ; but  he  looked  very  crest-fallen, 
because  the  Prince,  who  was  a stranger, 
had  seen  the  whole  affair. 

“ Here  is  a palm-leaf  for  the  Princess,” 
said  the  South  Wind;  “it  was  given  me  by 
the  old  phoenix-bird — the  only  one  that  was 
in  the  whole  world.  On  it  he  has  scribbled 
with  his  bill  his  whole  history  during  the 
hundred  years  that  he  lived;  so  now  she 
can  read  it  herself.  I saw  how  the  phoenix 
set  fire  to  his  own  nest,  seated  himself  on 
it,  and  was  burnt  like  the  Hindoo  widow. 
How  the  green  boughs  crackled,  and  what 
a smoke  and  fragrance  from  the  burning 
nest!  At  length  all  was  in  flames;  the  old 
bird  was  turned  to  ashes,  but  his  egg  lay 
red  and  glowing  in  the  fire.  It  burst  with 
a loud  noise,  and  the  young  phoenix  flew 
out.  He  is  now  lord  over  all  the  birds,  and 
the  only  phoenix  in  the  world.  He  ha« 
bitten  a hole  in  that  leaf  I have  given  you 
that  is  his  greeting  to  the  Princess.” 


85 


€j)B  (fnirimt  uf  ^nruMøB. 


“ Let  us  now  take  something  to  refresh 
ourselves,”  said  the  mother  of  thG  winds ; 
and  they  all  sat  down  to  eat  of  the  roasted 
buck ; and  the  Prince  took  a place  next  to 
the  East  Wind,  and  for  that  reason  they 
very  soon  became  very  good  friends. 

“I  say,”  began  the  Prince,  “just  tell  me 
what  Princess  that  is  of  whom  you  have 
talked  so  much  ? and  where  does  the  Garden 
of  Paradise  lie?” 

“Ho,  Ho!”  said  the  East  Wind;  “will 
you  go  there  ? If  you  will,  set  off  to-morrow 
with  me;  but  this  much  must  I tell  you,  no 
human  being  was  ever  there  since  Adam 
and  Eve’s  time.  You  know  them,  of  course, 
from  the  Bible  history?” 

“Yes,  to  be  sure,”  said  the  Prince. 

“When  they  were  driven  away,  the  Gar- 
den of  Paradise  sank  into  the  earth ; but  it 
retained  its  warm  sunshine,  its  genial  air, 
and  all  its  glory.  The  Queen  of  the  Fairies 
lives  there ; there  lies  the  Island  of  Bliss, 
which  Death  can  never  reach,  and  where 
life  is  so  very  beautiful.  Seat  yourself  to- 
morrow oil  my  back,  and  I will  tak*  you 
86 


Æljr  (ønr&rii  nf  'pnrntow. 


with  me;  I think  we  shall  be  able  to 
manage  it.  Bat  now  hold  your  tongue,  foi 
I want  to  go  to  rest.” 

And  now  they  all  fell  asleep. 

Early  in  the  morning  the  Prince  awoke, 
and  was  not  a little  astonished  to  see  that 
he  was  already  far  above  the  clouds,  lie 
was  sitting  on  the  back  of  the  East  Wind, 
who  carefully  held  him  fast;  they  were  so 
high  in  the  air  that  woods  and  fields,  rivers 
and  lakos,  looked  like  a large  colored  map, 
stretched  out  below. 

“Good  morning,”  said  the  East  Wind  ; 
“you  may,  if  you  like,  sleep  a little  longer; 
for  as  yet  there  is  not  much  to  be  seen  on 
the  flat  land  beneath  us,  unless  you  would 
like  to  count  the  churches,  which  stand  like 
little  white  dots  down  there  on  the  green 
board.”  They  were  the  fields  and  meadows 
which  he  called  a green  board. 

“ It  was  unpolite  of  me  to  depart  without 
taking  leave  of  your  mother  and  brothers,  ’ 
said  the  Prince. 

“If  one  sleeps,  it  is  excusable,”  answered 
the  East  Wind ; and  now  they  flew  on  stil’ 

87 


tøjl*  iMrn  nf  'pnrnMfft. 

more  quickly.  One  could  hear  it  by  the 
tops  of  the  trees ; when  they  passed  over 
them,  all  the  leaves  and  the  branches 
rustled : one  could  hear  it  on  the  sea,  and 
on  the  lakes;  for  wherever  they  flew,  the 
waves  rose  higher,  and  the  tall  ships  bent 
low  down  to  the  water  like  swans. 

Towards  evening,  as  it  was  getting  dark, 
the  great  cities  appeared  very  strange. 
Lights  were  burning  below,  now  here,  now 
there ; and  it  looked  exactly  as  if  one  had 
bmned  a piece  of  paper,  and  shaken  the 
sparks  in  all  directions;  and  then  to  see 
them  vanish  one  after  another,  till  at  last, 
as  children  say,  out  goes  the  sexton  and  his 
family. 

The  Prince  clapped  his  hands;  but  the 
East  Wind  begged  him  to  be  quiet,  and  to 
nold  fast ; otherwise  it  was  not  unlikely  he 
might  fall  down,  and  be  left  hanging  to 
some  church-steeple. 

The  eagle  in  the  dark  forests  flew  quickly 
enough;  but  the  East  Wind  flew  more 
quickly.  The  Cossack  on  his  little  horse 
rode  at  full  speed  over  the  steppes;  but  the 


€ljp  (Ønrtøn  nf  ^nrnMsp. 


Prince  rode  along  more  rapidly  in  a very 
different  manner. 

“Now  you  can  see  the  Himalaya,”  said 
the  East  Wind,  “they  are  the  highest 
mountains  in  Asia:  we  shall  soon  be  at  the 
Garden  of  Paradise.” 

They  afterwards  turned  more  to  the  south; 
and  the  fragrance  of  spices  and  flowers  soon 
floated  through  the  air.  Figs  and  pome- 
granates grew  wild,  and  red  and  white 
grapes  hung  in  profusion  on  the  wild  vine. 
Here  they  both  descended,  and  lay  in  the 
soft  grass,  where  the  flowers  nodded  to  tho 
wind,  as  though  they  would  say,  “Welcome, 
welcome !” 

“ Are  we  now  in  the  Garden  of  Paradise?” 
asked  the  Prince. 

“No,  not  yet,”  said  the  East  Wind;  “but 
we  shall  soon  be  there.  Do  you  see  yon 
wall  of  rock,  and  the  great  cavern,  where 
the  tendrils  of  the  vine-leaves  hang  like 
rich  green  curtains  ? There  we  must  pass, 
Wrap  yourself  up  in  your  cloak:  here  the 
sun  is  burning;  but  a step  further  and  it  is 
icy  cold.  The  bird  that  flies  before  the 

89 


KK 


farfrcn  nf  ^arniiiøf. 


cavern  has  one  wing  out  here  in  the  warm 
summer,  and  the  other  within  in  the  cold 
winter.” 

“And  that  is  the  way  to  the  Garden  ol 
Paradise?”  asked  the  Prince. 

So  now  they  entered  the  cavern : oh,  how 
icy  cold  it  was ! but  it  did  not  last  long. 
The  East  Wind  spread  out  his  wings,  and 
they  shone  like  a glowing  fire.  But  what 
a cavern ! The  huge  blocks  of  stone,  from 
which  the  water  trickled,  hung  over  them 
in  the  most  extraordinary  shapes.  Some- 
times the  passage  was  so  narrow  that  they 
were  obliged  to  creep  along  on  hands  and 
feet;  and  again  it  was  as  broad  and  high  as 
under  the  open  heaven.  It  looked  like  a 
subterranean  chapel,  with  silent  organ 
pipes  and  petrified  organ. 

“Suely  we  are  going  by  the  path  of 
Death  into  the  Garden  of  Paradise,  are  we 
not  ?”  said  the  Prince.  But  the  East  Wind 
answered  not  a word:  he  only  pointed 
forwards,  where  the  loveliest  blue  light 
gleamed  towards  them.  The  blocks  of 
etone  above  their  heads  became  more  and 
90 


Æjp!  (Sinrhn  of  ^nrnMsf. 


more  like  a vapor,  and  at  last  were  as  cleat 
as  a white  cloud  in  the  moonlight.  I hey 
were  now  in  the  mildest  air,  as  refreshing 
&s  on  the  mountains,  and  as  fragrant  as 
among  the  roses  of  the  valley. 

Here  flowed  a river  as  transparent  as  the 
air  itself;  and  the  fish  that  were  in  it  were 
of  silver  and  gold ; purple-colored  eels,  that 
at  every  turn  sent  forth  a shower  of  blue 
sparks,  sported  in  the  water ; and  the  broad 
leaves  of  the  water-lily  displayed  every 
color  of  the  rainbow — the  flower  itself  was  a 
pale-yellow  burning  flame,  which  was  sus- 
tained by  the  water,  as  the  lamp  is  led  by 
the  oil.  A firm  bridge  of  marble,  but  so 
fine  and  so  curiously  wrought  as  though  it 
were  made  of  glass  beads  and  lace,  led  over 
the  water  to  the  Island  of  Bliss,  where 
bloomed  the  Garden  of  Paradise. 

The  East  Wind  took  the  Prince  in  his 
Aims  and  carried  him  across.  Then  the 
leaves  and  the  flowers  sang  the  most  beauti- 
ful songs  about  his  childhood;  but  in  such 
gweet  and  swelling  tones,  that  no  human 
voice  could  imitate  them. 

øl 


Cji?  (Øurkii  nf  ^nrnii®. 


Whether  they  were  palms  or  gigantic 
water-plants  that  grew  here,  the  Prince 
knew  not;  but  such  great  luxurious  trees 
he  had  never  before  seen ; and  there  in  long 
garlands  were  hanging  from  tree  to  tree  the 
most  curious  creepers,  just  as  one  sees  them 
in  rich  colors  and  gold  on  the  margin  of  old 
Prayer-books,  or  twining  round  the  initial 
letters.  There  was  the  most  beautiful  mix- 
ture of  birds,  and  wreaths,  and  flowers. 
Close  by  in  the  grass,  stood  a flock  of  pea- 
cocks, with  their  radiant  tails  outspread. 
Yes,  indeed  it  was  so — but  no,  when  the 
Prince  touched  them,  he  found  that  they 
were  not  birds,  but  plants.  They  were 
large  burs,  which  here  shone  like  the  mag- 
nificent tail  of  the  peacock.  Lions  and 
tigers  leaped  like  playful  cats  between  the 
green  hedges,  that  smelt  as  sweetly  as  the 
blossom  of  the  olive ; and  the  lions  and  the 
ugers  were  tame.  The  timid  wood-dove, 
ner  plumage  shining  like  the  fairest  pearl, 
fanned  the  lion’s  mane  with  her  wings;  and 
the  antelope,  usually  so  shy,  stood  and 


»3 


Clj t dBnriltn  nf  I'atnbiHf. 

nodded  its  head,  as  though  it  would  like  Jc 
play  with  the  rest. 

Now  came  the  Fairy  of  Paradise.  Her 
clothes  shone  like  the  sun ; and  her  counte- 
nance was  as  mild  as  that  of  a happy 
mother  when  she  rejoices  over  her  child. 
She  was  young  and  beautiful ; and  follow- 
ing her  were  the  loveliest  maidens,  each  one 
with  a gleaming  star  in  her  hair. 

The  East  Wind  gave  her  the  leaf  with 
ihe  writing  from  the  phoenix,  and  her  eyes 
beamed  with  joy.  She  took  the  Prince  by 
the  hand,  and  led  him  into  her  palace, 
where  the  walls  were  colored  like  the  leaf 
of  the  most  beautiful  tulip  when  held  up  to 
the  sun.  The  ceiling  was  a single  shining 
flower;  and  the  more  one  looked  into  the 
calix,  the  deeper  it  seemed.  The  Prince 
advanced  to  the  window,  and  looked  through 
one  of  the  panes : he  saw  there  the  Tree  of 
Knowledge,  with  the  Serpent;  and  Adam 
and  Eve  standing  close  beside  it. 

“ Were  they  not  driven  away?”  asked  he. 
And  the  Fairy  smiled,  and  explained  to 
him  that  on  every  pane  of  glass  Time  bad 

03 


€jlB  Øitritnt  nf  ^itraMst. 

barnt  its  image;  but  it  was  not  such  a 
picture  as  one  generally  sees:  no,  there  was 
life  in  it ; the  leaves  of  the  trees  moved,  and 
human  beings  went  and  came  as  in  a 
mirror.  And  he  looked  through  another 
pane;  there  was  Jacob’s  dream.  The 
ladder  went  straight  up  into  heaven,  and 
the  angels  with  their  broad  wings  ascended 
and  descended  upon  it.  Yea,  all  that  had 
happened  in  this  world  lived  and  moved  on 
the  window-panes ; but  such  beautiful  glass- 
paintmg  as  this  could  only  be  produced  by 
Time. 

The  Fairy  smiled,  and  led  the  Prince  into 
a high,  and  spacious  hall,  whose  walls 
seemed  transparent,  and  were  covered  with 
paintings : there  were  thousands  of  happy 
beings,  whose  faces  were  radiant  with 
beauty,  and  who  laughed  and  sang  so  that 
their  voices  formed  a wondrous  harmony. 
The  highest  were  so  very  small;  smaller 
than  the  least  rose-bud,  when  it  is  drawn 
lilte  a mere  dot  upon  the  paper. 

In  the  midst  of  the  hall  stood  a large  tree, 
with  luxuriant  pendent  branches ; and 
94 


CjjB  d?nr&fn  nf  pnraitisr. 


golden  apples,  large  and  small,  hung  like 
oranges  between  the  green  leaves.  Thi# 
was  the  Tree  of  Knowledge,  of  whose  fruit 
Adam  and  Eve  had  eaten.  From  every 
leaf  a red  gleaming  dew-drop  was  falling: 
it  was  as  if  the  tree  shed  tears  of  blood. 

“ Now  let  us  get  into  the  boat,”  said  the 
Fairy;  “we  will  refresh  ourselves  on  the 
heaving  water.  The  boat  locks  on  the 
swelling  waves,  yet  it  moves  not  from  the 
spot;  but  all  the  countries  of  the  earth  will 
glide  by  before  our  eyes.” 

And  it  was  wonderful  to  behold  how  the 
whole  coast  moved.  There  came  the  lofty 
snow-covered  Alps,  with  clouds  and  dark 
pines:  the  deep  melancholy  sound  of  the 
horn  was  heard;  and  herdsmen  shouted 
merrily  from  the  valley  below. 

Now  the  long  drooping  branches  of  the 
Bananas  hung  down  into  the  boat,  jet  black 
swans  swam  on  the  water,  and  the  strangest 
looking  animals  and  flowers  were  to  he  seen 
on  the  banks.  This  was  New  Holland,  and 
the  fifth  quarter  of  the  Globe,  that  glided  by 
*rith  a view  of  the  Blue  Mountains.  And 

95 


(iurirni  nf  ^nrnbm. 


now  came  the  songs  of  the  priests,  and  they 
saw  the  wild  inhabitants  dance  to  the  sound 
of  the  drum  and  of  the  bone  tuba.  Egypt’s 
pyramids  climbing  to  the  clouds,  overthrown 
columns,  and  sphynxes,  half  buried  in  sand, 
sailed  by.  The  aurora  borealis  burned  over 
the  mountains  of  the  north : that  was  a fire 
work  that  no  mortal  could  imitate.  The 
Prince  was  so  happy,  and  he  saw  a hundred 
times  more  than  is  related  here  ! 

“And  may  I always  stay  here?”  asked 
he. 

“ That  depends  on  yourself,”  answered 
the  Fairy.  “If  you  do  not  allow  yourself 
to  be  seduced,  like  Adam,  to  do  that  which 
is  forbidden,  you  may  stay  here  for  ever.” 

“ I will  not  touch  the  apple  of  the  Tree 
of  Knowledge,”  said  the  Prince.  “ Here 
are  a thousand  fruits  as  beautiful  as  that 
one.  I should  never  do  as  Adam  did !” 

“ Examine  yourself,  and  if  you  are  not 
strong  enough,  then  go  with  the  East  Wind 
that  brought  you : he  is  about  to  fly  back, 
and  will  not  come  again  for  a hundred 
years.  To  you  the  time  here  will  pass 
96 


€\]i  Æarforn  nf  'pnroMw. 


away  as  though  it  were  a hundred  hours* 
but  it  is  a long  time  for  temptation  and  sin. 
Every  evening,  when  I leave  you,  I must 
call,  ‘ Come  with  me  !’  I must  beckon  to  you 
with  my  hand — but  do  not  attend.  Do  not 
follow  me;  for  with  every  step  temptation 
will  increase.  Should  you  come  into  the 
hall  where  the  Tree  of  Knowledge  stands, 
under  whose  fragrant  boughs  I sleep,  and 
bend  over  me,  and  press  a kiss  on  my 
mouth,  then  will  Paradise  sink  into  the 
earth,  and  be  lost  to  you.  The  chill  winds 
of  the  desert  will  whistle  around  you,  the 
cold  rain  trickle  from  your  hair,  and  want 
and  sorrow  will  be  your  portion.” 

“ I will  remain,”  said  the  Prince ; and 
the  East  Wind  kissed  him  on  the  forehead, 
and  said,  “Be  firm,  and  we  shall  meet 
again  here  in  a hundred  years  ! Farewell, 
farewell !” 

And  the  East  Wind  spread  out  his  large 
wings:  they  shone  like  lightning  seen  at 
harvest-time;  or  like  the  aurora  boreali« 
in  cold  winter. 

“Farewell!  farewell!”  was  re-echoed  by 

7 LL  97 


€ht  #nrbn  nf  'jtaairo 


tree  and  flower.  The  storks  and  the  pelicans 
flew  in  long  rows  like  fluttering  streamers 
as  they  accompanied  him  to  the  boundary 
of  the  garden. 

“Now  we  begin  our  dances!”  said  the 
Fairy.  “At  the  conclusion,  when  I have 
danced  with  you,  you  will  see  how,  as  the 
sinking  sun  departs,  I shall  beckon  to  you. 
You  will  hear  me  call,  ‘Come,  oh  come 
with  me !’  but  do  not  follow  me.  That  is 
your  temptation — that  is  sin  to  you.  For  a 
hundred  years  must  I repeat  the  call  to  you 
every  evening.  With  each  evening  that 
you  resist  the  temptation  will  your  moral 
strength  increase,  till  at  last  you  will  not 
give  it  a thought.  This  evening  will  be 
the  first  trial — remember  I have  given  you 
warning !” 

And  the  Fairy  led  him  to  a large  hall  of 
white  transparent  lilies;  and  the  yellow 
stamina  of  the  lilies  were  little  golden  harps, 
which  gave  forth  a music  as  of  stringed 
instruments  and  flutes. 

Lovely  maidens,  light  and  slender,  danced 
gracefully  around  him,  and  sang  of  life  and 
08 


Clip  dBnrltpn  nf  ^arniiisr. 


its  delights;  and  the  burden  of  their  song 
was,  that  death  should  never  approach 
those  who  were  purified  by  trial,  and  that 
the  Garden  of  Paradise  should  bloom  to 
them  for  evert 

It  was  sunset : the  whole  sky  was  as 
pure  gold ; and  in  the  purple  light  the  lilies 
shone  like  the  most  beautiful  roses.  And 
the  Prince  felt  a joy  within  his  heart  which 
he  had  never  experienced  before.  He  saw 
how  the  background  of  the  hall  opened,  and 
beheld  the  Tree  of  Knowledge  standing 
amidst  dazzling  brightness. 

And  again  the  sound  of  song  was  wafted 
towards  him,  mild  and  gentle  as  his  mother's 
voice;  and  he  seemed  to  hear  her  sing, 
“ My  child,  my  dear,  dear  child  !” 

Then  the  Fairy  beckoned  with  tenderness, 
and  cried,  “Come,  oh  come  with  me  !” 

lie  rushed  towards  her;  forgot  his  vow, 
forgot  it  even  on  the  very  first  evening;  and 
again  she  beckoned  and  smiled. 

The  air,  the  spicy  air  around  grew  still 
more  balmy ; and  the  harps  sounded  more 
delici  lsly;  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  millions 

»9 


€jj?  (Ønrtøn  nf  |taiiiffr. 


of  laughing  faces  in  the  hall,  where  the  tree 
grew,  nodded  and  said,  “One  should  know 
all 1 Man  is  Lord  of  the  Earth.”  And  it 
was  no  longer  tears  of  blood  that  dropped 
from  the  leaves  of  the  Tree  of  Knowledge, 
but  red,  shining  stars ; such,  at  least,  did 
they  seem  to  him. 

“Come,  oh  come  with  me!”  sounded 
with  trembling  tones ; and  at  every  step  the 
cheeks  of  the  Prince  burned  more  ardently, 
and  more  quickly  flowed  his  blood. 

41 1 must,”  said  he ; “ it  surely  is  no  sin ; 
cannot  possibly  be  a sin  ! Why  not  pursue 
what  is  beautiful  and  joyous?  I will  see 
her  while  she  sleeps.  In  doing  that  I shall 
have  lost  nothing : but  if  I were  to  kiss  her, 
—but  kiss  her  I will  not — I am  strong,  and 
am  resolute !” 

And  the  Fairy  threw  off  her  shining 
mantle,  bent  aside  the  branches,  and  was 
hidden  in  a moment  from  his  sight. 

“ As  yet  I have  not  sinned,”  said  the 
Prince;  “ nor  will  I;”  and  he  pushed  aside 
the  green,  depending  branches  of  the  Tree 
of  Knowledge;  she  slept — as  beautiful  as 
100 


€ljt  éariiru  of  ^ørnbiw. 


only  the  Fairy  of  the  Garden  of  Paradise 
can  be.  She  smiled  in  her  dream ; he  bent 
over  her,  and  saw  tears  beneath  her  eye- 
lashes. 

“Dost  thou  weep  forme?”  he  murmur- 
ed: “oh,  weep  not,  beautiful  maiden! — 
Now,  for  the  first  time,  do  1 comprehend  the 
joy  of  Paradise ! I feel  it  in  every  vein : 
every  thought  is  possessed  by  it.  I feel  the 
cherub’s  strength,  and  everlasting  life  in  my 
mortal  body ; let  darkness  enwrap  me  for 
ever — one  moment  like  this  is  enough  ! 
And  he  kissed  the  tears  from  her  eyes;  his 
lips  touched  hers — a frightful  clap  of  thun- 
der was  heard,  so  loud  and  terrible  that 
none  has  ever  heard  the  like.  And  all  dis- 
appeared: the  charming  Fairy  and  the 
blooming  Paradise  sunk  deep  into  the  earth ; 
down  into  dark  night  the  Prince  saw  it  sink- 
ing ; and  like  a small  twinkling  star  it  shone 
in  the  far  distance.  An  icy  coldness  spread 
over  his  limbs ; he  closed  his  eyes,  and  lay 
for  a long  while  as  if  dead. 

The  c<*J  rain  fell  on  his  face,  the  cliill 


101 


Cjre  (ønrttrn  nf  ^nrnbisf. 


wind  blew  on  his  forehead,  and  at  last  hit 
senses  returned. 

“ What  have  I done  7”  said  he ; “I  hava 
sinned  like  Adam ; I have  sinned,  and  Pa- 
radise has  sunk  from  my  sight !” 

He  opened  his  eyes  ; the  distant  star,  the 
star  that  twinkled  like  the  sunken  Paradise, 
he  could  see  still : it  was  the  Morning-star 
shining  in  the  sky. 

He  rose  and  found  himself  in  the  great 
wood,  near  the  Cave  of  the  Winds.  The 
Mother  of  the  Winds  sat  by  his  side;  she 
looked  displeased,  and  lifted  her  arm  on 
high. 

“ Already,  the  first  evening  !”  said  she ; 
“ I thought  as  much ; yes,  if  you  were  my 
son,  by  my  faith,  I would  punish  you.  you 
should  march  into  the  sack.” 

“ In  he  shall  go ; punishment  will  come !” 
said  a strong  old  man  with  a scythe  in  his 
hand,  and  with  large  black  wings  ! “He 
shall  be  laid  in  the  coffin,  but  not  now ; I 
have  marked  him,  but  I will  leave  him  yet 
a little  while  to  wander  on  the  earth,  to  re- 
pent his  sins ; he  may  improve,  he  may 
102 


€)i  fnriirii  nf 


grew  good.  Some  day  I shall  come  again. 
When  he  least  expects  it,  I shall  push  him 
into  the  black  coffin.  I shall  put  it  on  my 
head,  and  shall  fly  towards  the  stars. 
There,  too,  blooms  the  Garden  of  Paradise. 
If  he  be  good  and  holy,  he  may  enter  its 
beautiful  pearl  gates  and  be  a dweller  in  it 
for  ever  and  ever  : but  should  his  head  and 
heart  be  still  full  of  sin,  then  he  will  sink 
with  the  coffin  deeper  than  ever  sank  the 
Garden  of  Paradise;  and  every  thousand 
years  only  shall  I come  to  fetch  him,  that  he 
may  either  sink  still  deeper,  or  dwell  in  the 
star — in  that  bright  sparkling  star  there 
yonder !” 

The  Prince  arose — the  old  woman  was 
gone — the  Cave  of  the  Winds  was  nothing 
now  but  a hollow  in  the  rock;  he  wondered 
how  it  had  seemed  so  large  the  night  before  ; 
the  morning  star  had  set,  and  the  sun  shone 
with  a clear  and  cheerful  light  upon  the  little 
flowers  and  blades  of  grass,  which  were 
heavy  with  the  last  night’s  rain ; the  birds 
sang,  and  the  bees  hummed  in  the  blossoms 
of  the  lime  tree. 

103 


€I;t  (ønrkn  nf  pirafri®. 

The  Prince  walked  home  to  his  castlcv 
He  told  his  grandmother  how  he  had  been 
to  the  Garden  of  Paradise,  and  what  had 
happened  to  him  there,  and  what  the  old 
man  with  the  black  wings  had  said. 

“This  will  do  you  more  good  than  many 
book-lessons,”  said  his  grandmother ; “nev- 
er let  it  go  out  of  thy  memory t” 

And  the  Prince  never  did  forget  it 


194 


tyt 

Itøepjiertø  nnb  Cfjiumnj-f'tnerji. 


I 


AVE  you  ever  seen 
a very,  very  old 
clotliespress,  quite 
black  with  age,  on 
which  all  sorts  of 
flourishes  and  foliage 
were  carved?  Just 
such  a one  stood  in  a 
certain  room.  It  had  teen  hand- 
ed down  as  a legacy  to  the  owner 
from  a great  great  grandmother, 
and  it  was  carvel  from  top  to  bottom  with 
toscs  and  tulips;  the  most  curious  flourishes 


10S 


€|jf  lljBpljtrhHS  01! ft 

were  to  be  seen  on  it,  and  between  them 
little  stags  popped  out  their  heads  with  zig- 
zag antlers. 

But  on  the  top  a man  at  full  length  was 
carved.  True  he  was  laughable  to  look  at ; 
for  he  showed  his  teeth — laughing  one  could 
not  call  it — had  goat’s  legs,  little  horns  on 
his  head,  and  a long  beard.  The  children 
in  the  room  always  called  him  General- 
clothes-press-inspector  - head  - superintenden  t 
Goat-legs,  for  this  was  a name  difficult  to 
pronounce,  and  there  are  very  few  who 
get  the  title : but  to  cut  him  out  in  wood — 
that  was  no  trifle.  However,  there  he  was. 
He  looked  down  upon  the  table  and  towards 
the  mirror,  for  there  a charming  little  porce- 
lain Shepherdess  was  standing.  Her  shoes 
were  gilded,  her  gown  was  tastefully  looped 
up  with  a red  rose,  and  she  had  a golden 
hat  and  cloak ; in  short,  she  was  most  ex- 
quisite. 

Close  by  her  stood  a little  Chimney-sweep, 
as  black  as  a coal,  although  he  was  made 
of  porcelain  too.  He  was  just  as  clean  and 
pretty  as  the  rest  of  them;  as  to  his  being  a 
106 


tjjf  (Tljiinnnj-^urerp. 


chimney-sweep,  that  was  only  what  lie  re- 
presented; and  the  porcelain  manufactnrer 
could  just  as  well  have  made  a prince  of 
him  as  a chimney-sweep,  if  he  had  chosen ; 
one  was  as  easy  as  the  other,. to  a clever 
workman. 

There  he  stood  so  prettily  with  his 
ladder,*  and  with  a little  round  face  as  fair 
and  as  rosy  as  that  of  the  Shepherdess.  In 
reality  this  was  a fault;  for  a little  black 
he  certainly  ought  to  have  been.  He  was 
quite  close  to  the  Shepherdess ; both  stood 
where  they  had  been  placed ; and  as  soon 
as  they  were  put  there,  they  had  mutually 
promised  each  other  eternal  fidelity ; for 
they  suited  each  other  exactly — they  wero 
young,  they  were  of  the  same  porcelain, 
and  both  equally  fragile. 

Clqje  to  them  stood  another  figure  three 

• The  flues  in  Germany  are  much  larger  than  in  the 
houses  in  England  ; so  much  so  indeed,  that  men  only 
are  employed  as  sweeps.  The  lower  part  being  very 
wide,  they  have  short  ladders  of  about  eight  feet  u 
length  to  enable  them  to  get  up  to  the  narrower  part 
where  they  then  scramble  pn  in  the  usual  way. — C.  H 

107 


'%  Ijppjprilraø  nnii 

times  as  large  as  they  were.  It  was  an  o d 
Chinese,  that  could  nod  his  head.  He  was 
made  of  porcelain  too,  and  said  that  he  was 
randfather  of  the  little  Shepherdess;  but 
his  he  could  not  prove.  He  asserted, 
moreover,  that  he  had  authority  over  her, 
and  that  was  the  reason  he  had  nodded  his 
assent  to  the  General-clothes-press-inspector- 
head-superintendent-Goat-legs,  who  paid  his 
addresses  to  the  Shepherdess. 

“In  him,”  said  the  old  Chinese,  “you 
will  have  a husband  who,  I verily  believe, 
is  of  mahogany.  You  will  be  Mrs.  Goat- 
legs,  the  wife  of  a General-clothes-press- 
inspector-head-superintendent,  who  has  his 
shelves  full  of  plate,  besides  what  is  hidden 
in  secret  drawers  and  recesses.” 

! “ I will  not  go  into  the  dark  cupboard,” 

said  the  little  Shepherdess • “I  have  heard 
say  that  he  has  eleven  wives  of  porcelain  in 
there  already.” 

“ Then  you  may  be  the  twelfth,”  said 
he  Chinese.  “To-night,  as  soon  as  the 
old  clothes-press  cracks,  as  sure  as  I am  a 


108 


tljp  (Tljimnni-^inprp. 

Chinese,  wc  will  keep  the  wedding.  And 
then  he  nodded  his  head,  and  fell  asleep. 

Hut  the  little  Shepherdess  wept,  and 
looked  at  her  beloved — at  the  porcelain 
Chimney-sweep. 

“I  implore  you,”  said  she,  “fly  hence 
with  me  into  the  wide  world : for  here  it  is 
impossible  for  us  to  remain.” 

“ I will  do  all  you  ask,”  said  the  little 
Chimney-sweep.  “ Let  us  instantly  leave 
this  place.  I think  my  trade  will  enable 
me  to  support  you.” 

“If  we  were  only  down  from  the  table,” 
said  she.  *•  I shall  not  be  happy  till  we  are 
far  from  here,  and  free.” 

He  consoled  her,  and  showed  her  how 
she  was  to  set  her  little  foot  on  the  carved 
border  and  on  the  gilded  foliage  which 
twined  around  the  leg  of  the  table,  brought 
Iris  ladder  to  her  assistance,  and  at  last  both 
were  on  the  floor ; but  when  they  looked 
towards  the  old  clothes-press,  they  observed 
a great  stir.  All  the  carved  stags  stretched 
their  heads  out  farther,  raised  their  antlers, 
and  turned  round  their  heads.  The  Gen 


€1; t llrepljfrkøa  miii 

sral-clothes-press-inspector-hcad-superinten- 
Jent  gave  a jump,  and  called  to  the  old 
Chinese,  “They  are  running  away!  they 
are  running  away  !” 

At  this  she  grew  a little  frightened,  and 
jumped  quickly  over  the  ridge  into  a low 
drawer  near  the  window. 

Here  lay  three  or  four  packs  of  cards, 
which  were  not  complete,  and  a little 
puppet-show,  which  was  set  up  as  well  as 
it  was  possible  to  do.  A play  was  being 
performed,  and  all  the  1-adies,  Diamonds  as 
well  as  Hearts,  Clubs  and  Spades,  sat  in 
the  front  row,  and  fanned  themselves  with 
the  tulips  they  held  in  their  hands,  while 
behind  them  stood  all  the  knaves  ready  to 
wait  upon  them  when  they  wanted  any- 
thing. The  play  was  about  two  persons 
who  could  not  have  each  other  as  they 
wished,  at  which  the  Shepherdess  wept,  for 
it  was  her  own  history. 

“I  cannot  bear  it  any  longer,”  said  she, 
“I  must  get  out  of  the  drawer.” 

But  when  she  had  got  down  on  the  floor, 
and  looked  up  to  the  table,  she  saw  that 
no 


tjr?  (fljtniimj-åtnttp. 


the  old  Chinese  was  awake,  and  that  hi 
whole  body  was  rocking. 

“ The  old  Chinese  is  coming  ! ’ cried  th« 
little  Shepherdess;  and  down  she  fell  on 
her  porcelain  knee,  so  frightened  was  she. 

“ A thought  has  struck  me,”  said  the 
Chimney-sweep;  “let  us  creep  into  the 
great  Pot-pourri  Jar  that  stands  in  the 
corner;  there  we  can  lie  on  roses  and  laven- 
der, and  if  he  comes  after  us,  throw  dust 
in  his  eyes.” 

“’Tis  of  no  use,”  said  she.  “ Besides,  1 
Know  that  the  old  Chinese  and  the  Pot- 
pourri Jar  were  once  betrothed;  and  when 
one  has  been  once  on  such  terms,  a little 
regard  always  lingers  behind.  No ; for  us 
there  is  nothing  left  but  to  wander  forth  in- 
to the  wide  world.” 

“ Have  you  really  courage  to  go  forth 
with  me  into  the  wide  world?”  asked  the 
Chimney-sweep  tenderly.  “ Have  you  con- 
sidered how  large  it  is,  and  that  we  can 
never  come  back  here  again?” 

“I  have  thought  of  all  that,”  said  she. 

And  the  Sweep  gazed  fixedly  upon  her 

lit 


€|e  ll/tplinta  ntiii 


and  then  said,  “ My  way  lies  up  the  (him« 
ney.  Have  you  really  courage  to  go  with 
me  through  the  stove,  and  to  creep  through 
all  the  flues?  We  shall  then  get  into  the 
main  flue,  after  which  I am  not  at  a loss 
what  to  do.  Up  we  mount,  then,  so  high 
that  they  can  never  reach  us;  and  at  the 
top  is  an  opening  that  leads  out  into  the 
world.” 

And  he  led  her  towards  the  door  of  the 
stove. 

“It  looks  quite  black,”  said  she;  but  still 
she  went  with  him,  and  on  through  all 
the  intricacies  of  the  interior,  and  through 
the  flues,  where  a pitchy  darkness  reigned. 

“We  are  now  in  the  chimney,”  said  he; 
“and  behold,  behold,  above  us  is  shining 
the  loveliest  star !” 

It  was  a real  star  in  the  sky  that  shone 
straight  down  upon  them,  as  if  to  show 
the  way.  They  climbed  and  they  crept 
higher  and  higher.  It  was  a frightful  way; 
but  he  lifted  her  up,  he  held  her,  and  show- 
ed her  the  best  p’-ifps  on  which  to  put  her 
little  porcelain  feet ; .nd  thus  they  reached 
112 


irrt  Æj|iniwi|-tørp. 


the  top  of  the  chimney,  and  seated  them- 
selves on  the  edge  of  it ; for  they  were  tired, 
which  is  not  to  be  wondered  at. 

The  heaven  and  all  its  stars  were  above 
them,  and  all  the  roofs  of  the  town  below 
them ; they  could  see  far  around,  they  had 
such  a splendid  view  of  the  world.  The 
poor  Shepherdess  had  never  pictured  it  to 
herself  thus ; she  leaned  her  little  head  on 
her  Sweep,  and  wept  so  bitterly  that  all  the 
gilding  of  her  girdle  came  ofT. 

“Oh,  this  is  too  much!”  said  she;  “1 
cannot  bear  it.  The  world  is  too  large. 
Oh,  were  I but  again  on  the  little  table 
under  the  looking-glass ! I shall  never  be 
happy  till  I am  there  again.  I have  follow- 
ed you  into  the  wide  world;  now  if  you 
really  love  me,  you  may  follow  me  home 
again.” 

And  the  Chimney-sweep  spoke  sensibly 
to  her,  spoke  to  her  about  the  old  Chinese 

and  theGcncral-clothcs-press-inspector-head 

superintendent;  but  she  sobbed  so  violently, 
and  kissed  her  little  Sweep  so  passionately 

i.  MM  US 


€jje  il/rpjrntøøs  null 

that  he  was  obliged  to  give  way,  although 
it  was  not  right  to  do  so. 

So  now  down  they  climbed  again  with 
great  difficulty,  crept  through  the  flue  and 
into  the  stove,  where  they  listened  behind 
the  door,  to  discover  if  anybody  was  in  the 
room.  It  was  quite  still ; they  peeped  out, 
and  there,  on  the  floor,  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  lay  the  old  Chinese.  He  had  fallen 
from  the  table  in  trying  to  follow  the  fugi- 
tives, and  was  broken  in  three  pieces;  his 
whole  back  was  but  a stump,  and  his  head 
had  rolled  into  a corner,  while  General- 
clothes-press-inspector- head- superintendent 
Goat-legs  was  standing  where  he  had  evei 
stood,  absorbed  in  thought. 

“ How  dreadful !”  said  the  little  Shep- 
herdess. “ My  old  grandfather  is  dashed  to 
pieces,  and  we  are  the  cause.  I never  can 
survive  the  accident.”  And  she  wrung  her 
little  hands  in  agony. 

“ He  can  be  mended,”  said  the  Chimney- 
sweep; “he  can  easily  be  mended.  Only 
do  not  be  so  hasty.  If  they  glue  his  back 
together,  and  rivet  his  neck  well,  he  will  b 
114 


tjrr  Gjiimimi-fafp. 


as  good  as  new,  and  will  be  able  to  say 
enough  disagreeable  things  to  us  for  some 
time  to  come.” 

“Do  you  think  so?”  said  she;  and  then 
they  clambered  up  again  to  the  table  on 
which  they  had  stood  before. 

“You  see,”  said  the  Sweep,  “we  might 
have  spared  ourselves  tl*ese  disagreeables, 
after  all.” 

“ If  we  had  but  mended  my  old  grand- 
father !”  said  the  Shepherdess.  “ Does  it 
cost  much?” 

And  mended  he  was.  The  family  had  Ins 
back  glued,  and  his  neck  riveted,  so  that 
he  was  as  good  as  new,  except  that  he 
could  not  nod. 

“ Mcseems,  you  have  grown  haughty 
since  you  were  dashed  to  pieces,”  said 
General-clothes-press- inspector- head-super- 
intendent Goat-legs.  “ However,  I think 
there  is  not  so  very  much  to  be  proud  of. 
Am  I to  have  her,  or  am  I not?” 

Then  the  Chimney-sweep  and  the  little 
Shepherdess  looked  so  touchingly  at  the  old 
Chinese ; they  were  so  afraid  he  would  nod  ! 


Iljtpjnfrte  null  <Cjjimittt|-#tnwji. 


But  he  could  not,  and  it  was  disagreeable  to 
him  to  tell  a stranger  that  he  constantly 
carried  a rivet  in  his  neck.  So  the  little 
porcelain  personages  remained  together. 
They  blessed  the  old  grandfather’s  rivet 
over  and  over  again,  and  loved  each  othei 
till  they  both  fell  to  pieces. 


ns 


tittle  Sin’s  /Inmtts 


Y poor  flowers, 
you  are  wither’d!” 
said  little  Ida.  “ Yes- 
terday evening  you 
were  so  pretty,  and 
now  all  your  leaves 
are  drooping ! What 
is  the  reason  of  it?”  asked 
she  of  a youth  sitting  on  a sofa, 
and  whom  she  liked  very  much, 
because  he  told  her  the  most  beautiful  fairy- 
tales, and  cut  out  pasteboard  houses  for  her, 
and  such  wonderful  pictures  too;  he  could 

117 


Xittle  3k's  /Inincrs. 


cut  out  hearts  with  little  ladies  dancing  in 
them ; flowers  he  could  cut  out,  and  castlea 
with  doors  that  would  open.  He  was  a 
very  charming  youth. 

“Why  do  these  flowers  look  so  faded?” 
asked  she  again,  showing  him  a withered 
nosegay. 

“Don’t  you  know  what  ails  them?  ' an- 
swered he;  “your  flowers  have  been  all 
night  at  a ball,  and  that’s  the  reason  they 
all  hang  their  heads.” 

“ Flowers  cannot  dance !”  exclaimed  little 
Ida. 

“ Certainly  they  can ! When  it  is  dark, 
and.  we  are  all  asleep,  then  they  dance  about 
right  merrily.  They  have  a ball  almost 
every  night !”  said  the  youth. 

“ May  children  go  to  the  flowers’  ball 
too?”  asked  little  Ida. 

“Yes,”  answered  the  youth.  “Little 
tiny  daisies,  and  lilies  of  the  valley.” 

“Where  do  the  prettiest  flowers  dance?” 
asked  little  Ida. 

“ Have  you  never  been  to  the  large  castle, 
just  outside  the  gates,  which  is  the  King’« 
118 


littlf  Sim’s  /lom. 


country-house,  and  where  there  is  a beau- 
tiful garden  with  so  many  flowers  in  ill 
You  have  surely  seen  the  swans  that  come 
swimming  towards  you  on  the  lake  when 
you  throw  them  crumbs  of  bread  ? The 
flowers  have  regular  balls  there,  I can  tell 
you.” 

“ I was  in  the  garden  yesterday  with  my 
mother,”  said  Ida;  “but  there  were  no 
leaves  on  the  trees,  and  I did  not  see  a 
single  flower.  Where  were  they,  t,hen'l 
There  were  so  many  of  them  there  in  sum- 
mer !” 

“They  are  in  the  palace  now,”  said  the 
youth.  “As  soon  as  the  King  leaves  his 
summer-palace,  and  goes  to  town  with  his 
court,  all  the  flowers  go  directly  out  of  the 
garden  into  the  palace,  and  make  merry 
there,  and  enjoy  themselves  famously-  If 
you  could  but  see  it  once ! The  two  most 
beautiful  roses  seat  themselves  on  the 
throne,  and  play  at  King  and  Queen. 
Then  the  red  cockscombs  range  themselves 
in  rows  on  both  sides,  and  make  a low 
bow;  these  are  the  gentlemen  of  the  bed- 


HttU  Sitn's  /lirarø. 


chamber.  Then  the  nicest  flowers  enter, 
and  the  great  ball  begins.  The  blue  violets 
are  midshipmen  and  cadets,  and  they  dance 
with  hyacinths  and  crocuses,  which  they 
call  young  ladies.  The  tulips  and  great 
yellow  lilies,  they  are  old  ladies  who  look 
on  and  see  that  the  dancing  goes  on 
properly,  and  that  all  is  conducted  with 
propriety.” 

“ But,”  said  little  Ida,  quite  astonished, 
“ may  the  flowers  give  a ball  in  the  King’s 
palace  in  that  way,  and  does  nobody  come 
in  to  disturb  them?” 

“ No  one  in  the  palace  knows  anything 
about  it,”  answered  the  youth.  “It’s  true, 
sometimes  the  old  inspector  of  the  palace 
comes  up  stairs  in  the  night  with  his  great 
bunch  of  keys,  to  see  if  all  is  safe ; but  as 
soon  as  the  flowers  hear  the  rattling  of  his 
keys,  they  keep  quite  still,  and  hide  them- 
selves behind  the  long  silken  window- 
curtains,  and  peep  out  with  their  little  heads, 
‘I  smell  flowers  here  somewhere  about,1 
says  the  old  inspector  but  he  cannot  find 
out  where  they  are  ” 

120 


little  3h's  /iDHirrs. 


“That’s  very  droll,”  said  lilt  e Ida, 
clapping  her  hands.  “ But  could  I not  se« 
the  flowers?” 

“ Of  course  you  can  see  them,”  answered 
the  youth.  “ Only  peep  in  at  the  window 
when  you  go  again  to  the  palace.  I looked 
in  to-day,  and  I saw  a long  pale  white  lily 
reclining  on  the  sofa.  That  was  a maid  of 
honor.” 

“Can  the  flowers  in  the  Botanic  Garden 
go  there  too?”  asked  she.  “ Are  they  able 
to  go  all  that  way?” 

“ Certainly,  that  you  may  believe,”  said 
the  youth,  “for  if  the  flowers  choose,  they 
can  fly.  Have  you  not  seen  the  pretty  red 
and  yellow  butterflies,  and  the  white  ones  too, 
that  almost  look  like  flowers,  are  in  reality 
nothing  else.  They  have  grown  on  stalks, 
high  up  in  the  air,  and  then  they  have 
leave  given  them  to  jump  from  their  stems, 
they  move  their  leaves  as  if  they  were 
wings,  and  so  fly  about;  and  as  they 
always  behave  well,  they  are  allowed  to 
flutter  hither  and  thither  by  day,  instead  of 
sitting  quietly  on  their  stems,  till  at  last  real 

NN  121 


XittU  Sfo's  fim m. 


wings  grow  out  of  their  leaves.  Why,  yon 
have  seen  it  often  enough  yourself.  How- 
ever, it  inay  be  that  the  flowers  in  the 
Botanic  Garden  did  not  know  that  there 
was  such  merry-making  in  the  King:s  pal- 
ace of  a night,  and  so  have  never  been 
diere.  But  I’ll  tell  you  something  that  will 
put  the  Professor  of  Botany,  who  lives  beside 
the  garden,  into  a perplexity:  when  you 
go  there  again,  you  have  only  to  whisper  it 
to  one  flower,  that  there  is  a ball  to  be 
given  at  night  at  Friedricksburg,  and  one 
will  tell  it  to  the  other  till  they  all  know  it, 
and  then  all  the  flowers  are  sure  to  fly 
there.  Then  when  the  Professor  comes 
into  the  garden,  and  does  not  find  any  of 
his  flowers,  he  will  not  be  able  to  compre- 
hend what  is  become  of  them.” 

“ Ah !”  said  little  Ida,  somewhat  vexed 
at  the  strange  story,  “ how  should  the 
flowers  be  able  to  tell  each  other  what  I 
say?  Flowers  cannot  speak!” 

“No,  they  cannot  properly  talk:  there 
you  are  quite  right,”  continued  the  youth; 
“ but  they  make  themselves  understood  b\ 
122 


little  Sfoa'j  /Imntri. 


gestures.  Have  you  not  often  seen  how 
they  bend  to  and  fro,  and  nod  and  move  all 
their  green  leaves,  when  there  is  the  gentlest 
breeze  1 To  them  this  is  as  intelligible  as 
words  are  to  us.” 

“ Does  the  Professor  understand  their 
gestures,  then?”  said  little  Ida. 

“ To  be  sure  he  does.  One  morning  he 
came  into  the  garden  and  remarked  that  a 
great  stinging-nettle  was  conversing  on  very 
intimate  terms  with  a pretty  young  carna- 
tion. ‘You  are  so  beautiful,’  said  the 
nettle  to  the  carnation,  ‘ and  I love  you  so 
devotedly !’  Hut  the  Professor  would  not 
suffer  any  thing  of  the  sort,  and  tapped  the 
nettle  on  his  leaves — for  those  arc  its 
lingers;  but  they  stung  him  so  that  from 
that  day  forward  he  has  never  ventured  to 
meddle  with  a stinging-nettle  again.” 

“ Ha ! ha ! ha!  that  was  good  fun  indeed,” 
iaughed  little  Ida. 

“ What’s  the  meaning  of  this,”  said  the 
Professor  of  Mathematics,  who  had  just 
come  to  pay  a visit,  “ to  tell  the  child  such 
nonsense!”  He  could  not  bear  the  young 


tittle  Sint's  /Idto. 


man,  and  always  scalded  when  he  saw  him 
cutting  out  pasteboard  figures — as,  for  ex- 
ample, a man  on  the  gallows  with  a heart 
in  his  hand,  which  was  meant  for  a stealer 
of  hearts;  or  an  old  witch  riding  on  a 
broomstick,  carrying  her  husband  on  the  tip 
of  her  nose.  The  cross  Professor  could  not 
bear  any  of  these,  and  then  he  used  to  say 
as  he  did  now,  “ What’s  the  meaning  of 
that — to  teach  the  child  such  nonsense  ! 
That’s  your  stupid  Imagination,  I sup- 
pose !” 

But  little  Ida  thought  it  was  very  amus- 
ing, and  could  not  leave  off  thinking  of 
what  the  youth  had  told  her  about  the 
flowers.  No  doubt  her  flowers  did  hang 
their  heads  because  they  really  had  been  to 
the  ball  yesterday.  She  therefore  carried 
them  to  the  table  where  all  sorts  of  toys 
were  nicely  arranged,  and  in  the  drawer 
were  many  pretty  things  besides.  Her  doll 
lay  in  a little  bed,  to  go  to  sleep ; but  Ida 
said  to  her,  “ Really,  Sophie,  you  must  gel 
up,  and  be  satisfied  with  the  drawer  for  to- 
night; for  the  poor  flowers  are  ill,  and 


rittU  3fta’s  /(nnrrrs. 


must  sleep  m your  bed.  Then  perhaps  tl»ey 
may  be  well  by  to-morrow.” 

So  she  took  the  doll  out  of  bed;  but  the 
good  lady  did  not  say  a single  word,  she 
only  made  a wry  face  at  being  obliged  to 
leave  her  bed  for  the  sake  of  the  old 
flowers. 

Ida  laid  the  withered  flowers  in  her  doll’s 
bed,  covered  them  up  with  the  counterpane, 
tucked  them  in  very  nicely,  and  told  them 
to  lie  quite  still,  and  in  the  meantime  she 
would  make  some  tea  for  them  to  drink, 
that  they  might  be  quite  well  by  to-morrow 
morning.  And  she  drew  the  curtains  close 
all  round  the  bed,  so  that  the  sun  might  not 
shine  in  their  eyes. 

The  whole  evening  she  kept  on  thinking 
of  what  she  had  heard,  and  just  before 
going  to  bed  she  ran  to  the  window  where 
her  mother’s  tulips  and  hyacinths  were 
standing,  and  she  whispered  quite  softly  to 
them,  “I  know  very  well  that  you  are 
going  to  the  ball  to-night.”  But  the  flowers 
seemed  as  if  they  heard  nothing,  and  moved 

iu 


littl?  3k’ø  /Intrø. 


not  a leaf ; — but  little  Ida  knew  what  she 
knew. 

When  she  was  in  bed  she  lay  for  a long 
time  thinking  how  delightful  it  would  be 
to  see  the  flowers  dancing  at  the  King’s 
palace. 

“Have  my  flowers  really  been  there?” 
But  before  she  could  think  about  the  an- 
swer, she  had  fallen  asleep.  She  awoke 
again  in  the  night;  she  had  dreamed  of  the 
youth  and  the  flowers,  and  the  professor  of 
Mathematics,  who  always  said  the  youth 
stuffed  her  head  with  nonsense,  and  that 
she  believed  every  thing.  It  was  quite  still 
in  the  sleeping-room ; the  night-lamp  burnt 
on  the  table,  and  her  father  and  mother 
were  fast  asleep. 

“I  wonder  if  my  flowers  are  still  in 
Sophie’s  bed!”  said  she.  “I  should  like  so 
much  to  know !” 

She  sat  up  in  her  bed,  looked  towards  the 
door  which  was  half  open,  and  there  lay  the 
flowers  and  her  playthings  all  as  she  had 
left  them.  She  listened,  and  it  seemed  to 
her  as  i/  some  one  was  playing  on  the 
126 


Tittle  Stln’a  /Intnrra. 


piano  in  the  next  room,  but  quite  softly 
and  yet  so  beautifully  that  she  thought  sh* 
had  never  heard  the  like. 

“Now,  then,  my  flowers  are  all  dancing 
for  certain!”  said  she.  “Oh,  how  I should 
like  to  go  and  see  them  !”  But  she  did  not 
dare  to  get  up,  for  fear  of  awaking  her  father 
and  mother. 

“ If  they  would  but  come  in  here !”  said 
she.  But  the  flowers  did  not  come,  and  the 
music  continued  to  sound  so  sweetly.  At 
last  she  could  bear  it  no  longer,  it  was  so 
delightful — see  the  dance  she  must;  so  she 
crept  noiselessly  out  of  bed,  and  glided  to- 
wards the  door  of  the  drawing-room.  And 
what  wonders  did  she  behold  ! 

The  night-lamp  burned  no  longer ; and 
yet  it  was  quite  light  in  the  room,  because 
the  moon  shone  through  the  window  and 
illuminated  the  whole  floor,  so  it  was  almost 
as  light  as  day.  All  the  hyacinths  and 
tulips  stood  in  two  rows  in  the  drawing- 
room, and  before  the  windows  was  nothing 
but  the  empty  flower-pots.  The  flowers 
danced  figures,  one  round  another  on  the 

127 


Eittlf  3krø  /Innm 


floor ; they  made  a regular  chain  and  held 
each  other  by  the  long  leaves. 

At  the  piano  sat  a large  yellow  lily,  that 
Ida  thought  she  had  seen  before ; for  she 
remembered  that  the  youth  had  once  told 
her  that  this  lily  was  like  Miss  Laura,  and 
‘hat  every  body  had  laughed  at  him  for 
saying  so.  Now,  it  seemed  to  her  that  the  tall 
*ily  really  was  like  the  young  lady,  and  that 
she  had  quite  the  same  manners  when  she 
played;  for  now  she  bent  her  long  sallow 
face  first  on  one  side  and  then  on  the  other, 
and  nodded  with  her  head  to  keep  time; 
Ida  stood  looking  in  upon  them,  but  not  one 
of  them  observed  her. 

Now  a large  blue  crocus  sprang  upon 
the  table  where  Ida’s  toys  were  lying,  went 
straight  to  the  bed,  and  drew  aside  the 
curtains.  There  lay  the  sick  flowers;  but 
they  got  up  directly  and  saluted  the  other 
flowers,  who  begged  them  to  join  the  dance. 
The  old  snapdragon,  whose  under  lip  was 
broken  off,  stood  up  and  bowed  to  the  pretty 
flowers.  The  sick  flowers  really  did  get  up 


128 


tittle  Sitn’B  /Innim. 


(ooked  no  longer  ill,  and  danced  merrily 
with  the  rest. 

Suddenly  a dull  sound  was  heard,  as  if 
something  had  fallen  from  the  table.  IJa 
cast  her  eyes  in  that  direction,  and  saw  that 
it  was  the  Easter- wand  she  had  found  lying 
on  her  bed  one  shrovetide  morning,  and 
which  now  wanted  to  be  looked  upon  as  a 
flower.  It  was  indeed  a charming  rod ; for 
at  the  top  a little  wax  figure  was  hidden, 
with  a broad-brimmed  hat  on  like  the  Pro- 
fessor: and  it  was  tied  with  red  and  blue 
ribands.  So  it  hopped  about  among  the 
flowers,  and  stamped  away  right  merrily 
with  its  feet ; for  it  was  the  mazourka  that 
it  was  dancing,  and  this  the  flowers  could 
not  dance,  for  they  were  much  too  light- 
footed. 

All  at  once  the  wax  figure  in  the  rod 
became  a tall  and  stout  giant,  and  cried  out 
with  a loud  voice,  “ What’s  the  meaning  of 
this — to  teach  the  child  such  nonsense ! 
Hut  this  is  your  stupid  Imagination,  I sup- 
pose!”  And  now  the  doll  grew  just  like 
die  Professor,  and  looked  as  yellow  and 
9 129 


rittit  Sh'g  /Intim 


cross  as  he  did : they  were  as  like  as  two 
peas.  But  the  paper  flowers  with  which 
the  rod  was  ornamented  pinched  his  thin 
lanky  legs,  and  then  he  shrunk  together 
and  was  a tiny  wax  doll  again. 

Little  Ida  thought  this  scene  so  funny 
that  she  burst  out  a laughing,  which,  how- 
ever, the  company  did  not  remark ; for  the 
rod  kept  on  stamping,  till  at  last  the  Pro- 
fessor of  Mathematics  was  obliged  to  dance 
too,  whether  he  made  himself  stout  or  thin, 
big  or  little,  he  was  forced  to  keep  on,  till  at 
last  the  flowers  begged  for  him,  and  the  rod 
»hen  left  him  in  peace. 

A loud  knocking  was  now  heard  in  the 
drawer  where  the  doll  lay ; and  with  this 
the  snap-dragon  run  up  to  the  corner  of  the 
table  and  opened  the  drawer  a little.  It 
was  Sophie,  who,  putting  out  her  head, 
looked  around  quite  astonished : 

“Is  there  a ball  here"?”  said  she  “why 
was  I not  told  of  it!” 

“ Will  you  dance  with  me?”  said  the  nut- 
trackers. 

“ A fine  sort  of  person  indeed  to  dance 
130 


titti f 3tra's  /Intim 


with .”  said  Sophie,  turning  her  back  on 
him.  She  seated  herself  on  the  drawer,  t 
and  thought  that  some  one  of  the  flowers 
would  certainly  come  and  engage  her  to 
dance.  But  no  one  came.  So  she  coughed 
a little  : “ A hem  ! a-hem  !”  Still  nonecame. 
Then  the  nutcrackers  began  dancing  alone, 
and  he  performed  his  steps  by  no  means 
badly. 

When  Sophie  saw  that  not  one  of  the 
flowers  came  to  offer  himself  as  partner,  she 
suddenly  slipped  down  on  the  floor,  so  that 
there  was  a terrible  fuss,  and  all  the  flowers 
came  running  up  and  gathered  around  her 
to  inquire  if  she  had  hurt  or  bruised  herself. 
She  was  not  hurt  at  all ; but  all  the  flowers 
were  very  complaisant,  particularly  those 
belonging  to  Ida,  who  took  this  opportunity 
<o  thank  her  for  the  nice  bed  in  which  they 
jad  slept  so  quietly;  and  then  they  paid  her 
lo  much  attention  and  they  took  her  by  the 
hand,  and  led  her  to  the  dance,  while  all 
the  other  flowers  stood  round  in  a circle. 
Sophie  was  now  quite  happy,  and  begged 
Ida’s  flowers  to  make  use  of  her  bed  alter 

131 


rittit  3k’a  /Innirra. 


the  ball,  as  she,  for  her  part,  did  not  at  all 
mind  sleeping  one  night  in  the  drawer. 

But  the  flowers  said:  “We  are  very 
much  obliged  to  you  indeed;  but  we  shall 
not  live  so  long,  for  to-morrow  we  shall  be 
quite  withered.  But  now  tell  little  Ida  tha! 
she  must  bury  us  down  in  her  garden  neat 
her  canary-bird;  there  we  shall  appear 
again  next  summer,  and  grow  more  beauti- 
ful than  we  were  this  year.” 

“No,  you  shall  not  die!”  continued 
Sophie  vehemently,  kissing  the  flowers. 

Suddenly  the  door  of  the  drawing-room 
opened,  and  a great  crowd  of  beautiful- 
flowers  came  dancing  in.  Ida  could  not 
comprehend  where  these  flowers  came  from, 
unless  they  were  the  flowers  from  the 
King’s  pleasure-grounds.  First  of  all  en- 
tered two  magnificent  roses  with  golden 
crowns  on,  they  were  a King  and  a Queen ; 
and  then  followed  stocks  and  pinks  bowing 
on  every  side.  They  had  too  a band  of 
music  with  them  : large  poppies  and  peonies 
blew  upon  peashells  till  they  were  red  in 
the  face,  and  lilies  of  the  valley  and  blue- 

132 


Xittlt  3k's  .floraers. 


bells  joined  their  tinkling  sounds,  and  rung 
as  if  they  were  musical  bells.  It  was 
charming  music. 

Then  came  a crowd  of  the  most  various 
flowers,  all  dancing, — violets,  daisies,  con- 
volvuluses, hyacinths;  and  they  all  moved 
and  turned  about  so  prettily,  and  kissed 
one  another,  that  it  was  quite  a channing 
sight 

At  last  the  happy  flowers  wished  each 
other  good  night;  and  now  little  Ida  slipped 
into  the  bed  again,  and  dreamed  of  all  the 
splendid  things  she  had  just  beheld. 

The  following  morning,  as  soon  as  she 
was  up  and  dressed,  she  went  to  the  table 
where  her  playthings  were,  to  see  if  her 
flowers  were  still  there.  She  drew  the  bed- 
curtains  aside,  and — yes ! the  flowers  were 
there,  but  they  were  much  more  withered 
than  they  were  yesterday.  Sophie,  too. 
was  in  the  drawer,  but  she  looked  dread- 
fully sleepy. 

“Can’t  you  remember  what  you  had  to 
•ay  to  me  i”  asked  little  Ida.  Sophie,  how- 


tiftlf  3k’s  /Inara. 


eecr,  only  looked  very  stupid,  and  did  not 
answer  a word. 

“ You  are  not  at  all  good,”  said  Ida,  “ and 
yet  all  the  flowers  asked  you  to  dance  with 
them.” 

Then  she  chose  a little  box  of  pasteboard 
from  among  her  playthings;  it  was  painted 
with  birds,  and  in  it  she  laid  the  withered 
flowers.” 

“ That  shall  be  your  coffin,”  she  said ; 
“ and  when  my  cousins  from  Norway  come 
to  see  me,  they  shall  go  to  your  funeral  in 
the  garden  ; so  that  next  summer  you  may 
bloom  again,  and  grow  more  beautiful  than 
you  were  this  year.” 

The  cousins  from  Norway  were  two 
merry  boys,  Jonas  and  Esben.  Their 
father  had  just  made  each  of  them  a present 
of  a bow  and  arrows,  which  they  brought 
with  them  to  show  to  Ida.  She  told  them 
all  about  the  poor  flowers  that  were  dead, 
and  that  she  was  going  to  bury  in  the  gar- 
den. The  two  boys  went  before  with  the 
bows  on  their  shoulders,  and  little  Ida  follow- 
ed with  the  dead  flowers  in  the  pretty  little 
134 


rittip  Stin's  jT| starrs. 


DOX.  A grave  was  dug  in  the  garden.  Id 
kissed  the  flowers  once  more,  put  the  box 
into  the  earth,  and  Jonas  and  Esben  shot 
over  the  grave  with  their  bows,  for  they  had 
oo  guns  or  cannons. 


in 


€!)t  Sniøtj. 


Now  l sten! 


in  the  country, 
close  to  the  road- 
side, there  stands 
country  house, 
am  sure  you  have 
often  seen  it ; in 


front  there  is  a little 
enclosed  by  white  palisades 
with  the  points  painted  green,  Close  by, 
136 


flower- ga  rdcn 


€(rr  Støføtf. 


on  a bank  outside  the  palings,  amid  the 
most  beautiful  grass,  grew  a little  Daisy; 
the  sun  shone  on  it  just  as  bright  and  warm 
as  on  the  splendid  flowers  in  the  garden, 
and  so  each  hour  it  grew  in  strength  and 
beauty.  One  morning,  there  it  stood  full 
blown,  with  its  delicate  white  glistening 
leaves,  which  encircled  the  little  yellow  sun 
in  the  middle  like  rays  of  light. 

It  never  once  occurred  to  the  little  flower 
that  it  was  seen  by  nobody,  hidden  as  it 
was  down  there  in  the  grass,  and  that  it 
was  a poor  despised  flower ! No,  nothing 
of  the  kind ! 

It  was  so  contented  ! It  turned  towards 
the  warm  sun,  gazed  upon  it,  and  listened 
to  the  lark  that  was  singing  in  the  air. 

The  little  Daisy  was  so  happy  ! as  happy 
as  though  it  had  been  a great  holiday;  and 
yet  it  was  only  a Monday.  The  children 
were  iu  school ; and  while  they  s^t  there  on 
their  forms  and  learned  their  lessons,  the 
little  flower  sat  on  its  green  stem,  and  also 
learned,  from  the  warm  sun  and  from  all 
around,  how  good  God  is;  and  it  was  just 

00  137 


fip!  ftisif. 


rs  if  the  lark  uttered  all  this  in  its  song, 
beautifully  and  distinctly,  while  the  flower 
felt  it  in  silence.  And  the  flower  looked  up 
with  a sort  of  reverence  to  the  happy  bird 
that  could  sing  and  fly,  but  it  was  not 
dejecied  at  being  itself  unable  to  do  the 
same. 

“Do  I not  see  and  hear?”  thought  the 
Daisy;  “the  sun  shines  on  me,  and  the 
breeze  kisses  me, — oh,  what  rich  gifts  do  I 
enjoy !” 

Within  the  palisading  of  the  garden  stood 
many  stiff  stately  flowers : the  less  fra- 
grance they  had,  the  higher  they  held  their 
heads.  The  peonies  puffed  themselves  out, 
in  order  to  make  themselves  larger  than  the 
roses ; but  it  is  not  always  the  size  that  will 
avail  any  thing.  The  tulips  were  of  th3 
most  beautiful  colors ; they  knew  that  very 
well,  and  held  themselves  as  straight  as  an 
arrow,  so  that  they  might  be  seen  all  the 
better.  They  did  not  deign  to  cast  a look 
on  the  little  Daisy-flower  outside ; but  the 
flower  looked  at  them  so  much  the  more 
ind  thought,  “ Hew  rich  and  beautiful  those 
138 


are!  Yes,  lo  he  sure,  the  beautiful  bird 
certainly  flies  down  to  them — them  he  surely 
visits  ! What  happiness  to  have  got  a place 
bo  near,  whence  I can  see  all  this  splendor.” 
And  just  as  it  was  thinking  so, — “ r/nirre- 
vit down  came  the  lark  from  on  high; 
but  it  did  not  go  to  the  peonies  or  tulips; 
no,  but  down  into  the  grass  to  the  poor  little 
Daisy,  which  for  pure  joy  was  so  astonished 
that  it  did  not  even  know  what  it  should 
think. 

The  little  bird  hopped  about  in  the  gras? 
and  sang:  “Well!  how  soft  the  grass  is! 
and  only  look,  what  a sweet  little  flower 
with  a golden  heart  and  with  a robe  of 
silver !”  For  the  yellow  spot  in  the  Daisy 
looked  really  just  like  gold,  and  the  little 
leaves  around  were  shining,  and  as  white  as 
silver. 

How  happy  the  little  Daisy  was  ! no  one 
could  believe  it.  The  bird  kissed  her  with 
his  beak,  sang  to  her,  and  then  flew  up 
again  in  the  blue  air.  It  was  certainly  a 
whole  quarter  of  an  hour  before  the  Daisy 
came  to  herself  again.  Half  ashamed,  and 


yet  so  glad  at  heart,  she  looked  at  the 
flowers  over  in  the  garden  : they  had  beheld 
the  honor  and  the  happiness  that  had  be- 
fallen her ; they  would  surely  comprehend, 
she  thought,  what  a joy  it  was  to  her;  but 
there  stood  the  tulips  as  stiff  again  as 
before,  looking  quite  prim,  and  they  were, 
too,  quite  red  in  the  face;  for  they  were 
vexed.  But  the  peonies  looked  so  thick 
headed ! ah ! it  was  a good  thing  they 
could  not  speak,  otherwise  the  Daisy  would 
have  heard  a fine  speech.  The  poor  little 
dower,  however,  could  see  very  plainly  that 
they  were  not  in  a good  humor,  and  she 
was  heartily  sorry  for  it.  At  this  moment 
a maiden  came  into  the  garden  with  a 
knife  in  her  hand,  sharp  and  polished ; she 
went  among  the  tulips,  and  cut  off  one  after 
the  other. 

“Ah!”  sighed  the  little  Daisy,  “this 
is  really  terrible;  now  it  is  all  over  with 
them.” 

Then  the  girl  with  the  tulips  went  away. 
The  Daisy  was  glad  that  it  was  standing 
out  there  in  the  grass,  and  was  but  a poo* 

140 


Æ'Ije  lOaiHij. 


hille  flower; — it  was  quite  thankful:  and 
when  the  sun  set,  it  folded  its  leaves,  went 
to  sleep,  and  dreamed  the  whole  night  of  the 
Sun  and  the  beautiful  bird. 

On  the  following  morning,  when  the 
flower,  fresh  and  joyful,  again  stretched  out 
its  white  leaves,  like  little  arms,  into  the 
bright  sunshine  and  clear  blue  air,  it  recog- 
nized the  voice  of  the  bird ; but  what  he 
sung  was  so  melancholy!  Yes,  the  poor 
lark  had  good  reason  to  be  sad : he  had 
been  taken  prisoner,  and  was  now  sitting  in 
a cage,  close  to  an  open  window  in  the 
pleasure-house.  He  sang  of  the  joy  of  be- 
ing able  to  fly  about  in  freedom,  sang  of  the 
young  green  corn  in  the  field,  and  of  the 
beautiful  jotirneyings  which  he  used  to 
make  on  his  wings,  high  up  in  the  free  air. 
The  poor  bird  was  heavy  of  heart : there  he 
sat  a captive  in  a narrow  cage. 

The  little  Daisy  would  sogladly  have  help- 
ed him ; but  how  to  begin,  yes,  that  was 
the  difliculty.  In  sympathizing  with  the 
lark,  it  forgot  entirely  how  beautiful  was 
every  thing  around  it,  how  warm  the  sun 

141 


Æljc  Dmøtj. 


shone,  and  how  beautifully  white  its  own 
leaves  glistened : — oh  ! it  could  only  think 
on  the  imprisoned  bird,  for  whom  it  was  in- 
capable of  doing  any  thing. 

Then  suddenly  there  came  two  little  boys 
out  of  the  garden,  and  one  of  them  had  a 
knife  in  his  hand,  large  and  shanp,  like  that 
with  which  the  girl  had  cut  the  tulips. 
They  came  straight  towards  the  little  Daisy, 
who  could  not  imagine  what  they  wanted. 

“ Here  we  can  cut  a nice  piece  of  turf  for 
the  lark,”  said  one  of  the  boys,  and  began 
to  cut  out  a square  all  around  the  Daisy,  so 
that  the  flower  stood  in  the  very  middle 
of  it. 

“Pull  up  the  flower,”  said  one  boy;  and 
the  Daisy  trembled  for  very  fear ; for  to  be 
pulled  up,  why  that  was  to  die,  and  it 
wished  to  live,  as  it  was  to  be  put  with 
the  turf  into  the  cage  of  the  imprisoned 
lark. 

“No,  let  it  stay,”  said  the  other  boy; 
“ it  looks  so  pretty.”  And  so  it  remained, 
and  was  put  into  the  cage  with  the  lark. 

But  the  poor  bird  bewailed  loudly  hif 
142 


€jjp  Dnimj. 


.ost  frce<lom,  and  fluttered  against  iic  iron 
wires  of  the  cage.  The  little  flower  could 
not  speak,  could  not  say  one  consoling 
word  to  him,  much  as  she  wished  to  do  so. 
Thus  passed  the  whole  forenoon. 

“ There  is  no  water  here,”  said  the  im- 
prisoned lark;  “ they  are  all  gone  out,  and 
have  forgotten  me.  Not  a drop  of  water 
to  drink ! my  throat  is  dry  and  burning ! 
within  me  is  fire  and  ice,  and  the  air  is  so 
heavy  ! Oh,  I shall  die ; I must  leave  the 
warm  sunshine,  and  the  fresh  green  trees, 
and  all  the  beautiful  things  that.God  has 
created !”  And  saying  these  words,  he  press- 
ed his  beak  into  the  cool  piece  of  turf  to  re- 
fresh himself  a little;  and  his  eye  fell  on  the 
Daisy,  and  the  bird  nodded  to  it  and  kissed 
it,  and  said  : “ You  also  must  wither  here, 
you  poor  little  flower;  you  and  the  green 
turf  here  have  been  given  me  instead  of  tho 
whole  world,  which  I had  out  there  ! Every 
little  blade  of  grass  must  be  to  me  as  a 
green  tree,  every  one  of  your  white  leaves  a 
fragrant  tlowcr.  Ah,  you  only  romind  me 
how  much  I have  lost !” 

143 


tøjl*  Daiøtj. 


“What  can  I do  to  comfort  him?" 
thought  the  little  flower ; but  she  could  not 
move  a leaf ; yet  the  fragrance  which 
streamed  from  her  delicate  leaves  was  much 
stronger  than  is  usual  with  this  flower. 
The  bird  observed  this;  and  although  he 
was  dying  of  thirst,  and  tore  up  every  green 
blade  of  grass  in  his  suffering,  yet  he  did 
not  even  touch  the  little  Daisy. 

It  was  evening,  and  no  one  came  as  yet 
to  bring  the  poor  bird  a drop  of  water  : he 
stretched  out  his  delicate  wings,  and  flutter- 
tered  convulsively;  his  song  was  a com- 
plaining chirp.  His  little  head  bowed 
down  towards  the  Daisy,  and  the  heart  of 
the  bird  broke  for  thirst  and  longing. 

Then  the  flower  was  not  able  as  on  the 
evening  before,  to  fold  its  leaves  together 
and  sleep ; it  bowed  down  ill  and  sorrowful 
to  the  earth. 

It  was  not  until  the  next  morning  that 
the  boys  came  back ; and  when  they  saw 
that  the  bird  was  dead,  they  wept  many 
tears,  and  dug  for  it  a pretty  grave,  which 
they  decked  with  flowers.  The  dead  body 
14« 


fir?  Diitøj. 


of  the  bird  was  put  in  a beautiful  red 
paper  box; — he  was  to  be  buried  royally, 
the  poor  bird  ! While  he  lived  and  sang, 
they  forgot  him,  let  him  sit  in  a cage  and 
suffer  want;  now  they  showed  him  grea» 
honor  and  lamented  him. 

Cut  the  bit  of  turf  with  the  Daisy  was 
thrown  out  into  the  dust  of  the  highway ; 
no  one  thought  of  her,  who,  however,  had 
felt  most  for  the  little  bird,  and  had  wished 
so  much  to  comfort  him. 


FP 


l«S 


10 


Hr  to  fnt’n  <®ot. 


[These  touching  stanzas  are  a translation,  or  rathoi 
adaptation,  of  Andersen’s  story  of  the  “ Little  Match 
Girl.”  They  were  originally  published  in  the  Boston 
Transcript.] 


1 å ITTLE  Gretchen,  little  Gretchen, 
Wanders  up  and  down  the  street, 
The  snow  is  on  her  yellow  hair, 

The  frost  is  on  her  feet. 

14« 


2?ein  ^rnr’s  (Put. 


The  rows  of  long  dark  houses, 
Without  look  cold  and  damp, 

By  the  struggling  of  the  moonbeam, 
By  the  flicker  of  the  lamp. 

The  clouds  ride  fast  as  horses 
The  wind  is  from  the  north ; 

But  no  one  cares  for  Gretchen, 

And  no  one  looketh  forth. 

Within  those  dark  damp  houses 
Are  merry  faces  bright, 

And  happy  hearts  are  watching  out 
The  old  year’s  latest  night. 

The  board  is  spread  with  plenty, 
Where  the  smiling  kindred  meet, 

But  the  frost  is  on  the  pavement, 
And  the  beggars  in  the  street. 

With  the  little  box  of  matches, 

She  could  not  sell  all  day, 

And  the  thin,  thin  tattered  mantle, 
The  wind  blows  every  way. 


14* 


Mm  Rent’s  to. 


She  cliugeth  to  the  railing, 

She  shivers  in  the  gloom, — 

There  are  parents  sitting  snngly 
By  firelight  in  the  room  : 

And  groups  of  busy  cliildren, 
Withdrawing  just  the  tips 
Of  rosy  fingers  pressed  in  vain 
Against  their  burning  lips ; 

With  grave  and  earnest  faces, 

Are  whispering  each  other, 

Of  presents  for  the  new  year,  made 
For  father  or  for  mother. 

But  no  one  talks  to  Gretchen, 

And  no  one  hears  her  speak, 

No  breath  of  little  whisperers 
Comes  warmly  to  her  cheek : 

No  little  arms  are  round  her, 

Ah  me ! that  there  should  be 
With  so  much  happiness  on  earth, 
So  much  of  misery. 

148 


&m  ^rnr’s  <£ut. 


Sure  they  of  many  blessings, 
Should  scatter  blessings  round, 

As  laden  boughs  in  Autumn  fiinj 
Their  ripe  fruits  to  the  ground 

And  the  best  love  man  can  offer 
To  the  God  of  love,  be  sure, 

Is  kindness  to  his  little  ones, 

And  bounty  to  his  poor. 

Little  Grctchcn,  little  Grctchen 
Goes  coldly  on  her  way; 

There’s  no  one  looketh  out  at  her. 
There’s  no  one  bids  her  stay. 

Her  home  is  cold  and  desolate, 

No  smile,  no  food,  no  fire  ; 

But  children  clamorous  for  bread, 
And  an  impatient  sire. 

So  she  sits  down  in  an  angle, 
Where  two  great  houses  meet, 

And  she  curleth  up  beneath  her, 
For  warmth,  her  little  feet. 


i 


33ftn  ‘^rnr's  Æm« 


And  she  looketh  on  ihe  cold  wall. 

And  on  the  colder  sky, 

And  wonders  if  the  little  stars 
Are  bright  fires  up  on  high. 

She  heard  a clock  strike  slowly, 

Up  in  a far  church  tower, 

With  such  a sad  and  solemn  tone, 
Telling  the  midnight  hour. 

Then  all  the  bells  together, 

Their  merry  music  poured ; 

They  were  ringing  in  the  feast, 

The  circumcision  of  the  Lord. 

And  she  thought  as  she  sat  lonely, 

And  listened  to  the  chime, 

Of  wondrous  things  that  she  had  loved 
To  hear  in  the  olden  time. 

And  she  remembered  her  of  tales, 

Her  mother  used  to  tell, 

And  the  cradle  songs  she  sang, 

When  summer’s  twilight  fell. 

150 


Pm  ^rnr’s  (fur. 


Of  good  men  mul  of  angels, 

And  of  ihe  Holy  Child, 

Who  was  cradled  in  a manger, 

When  winter  was  most  wild. 

Who  was  poor,  and  cold,  and  hungry 
And  desolate  and  lone; 

And  she  thought  the  song  had  told, 
He  was  ever  with  his  own. 

And  all  the  poor  and  hungry, 

And  forsaken  ones  are  his  : 

“ I low  good  of  him  to  look  on  m«, 

In  such  a place  as  this.” 

Colder  it  grows  and  colder, 

But  she  does  not  feel  it  now, 

For  the  pressure  at  her  heart, 

And  the  weight  upon  her  brow. 

But  she  struck  one  little  match 
On  the  wall  so  cold  and  hare, 

That  she  might  look  around  her, 

And  see  if  He  were  there.  * 

III 


Mm  t%rrs  (fut. 

o 

The  single  match  has  kindled, 

And  by  the  light  it  threw, 

It  seemed  to  little  Grete  hen, 

The  wall  was  rent  in  two. 

And  she  could  see  the  room  within 
The  room  all  warm  and  bright, 
With  the  fire-glow  red,  and  dusky 
And  the  tapers  all  alight. 

And  there  were  kindred  gathered, 
Round  the  table  richly  spread, 
With  heaps  of  goodly  viands, 

Red  wine  and  pleasant  bread. 

She  could  smell  the  fragrant  savor, 
She  could  hear  what  they  did  say 
Then  all  was  darkness  once  again, 
The  match  had  burned  away. 

She  struck  another  hastily, 

And  now  she  seemed  to  see, 
Within,  the  same  warm  chamber, 

A glorious  Christmas  tree. 

150 


Quit's  Ænr. 

The  branches  were  all  laden 

With  such  things  as  children  prize^ 

Bright  gift  for  boy  and  maiden, 

She  saw  them  with  her  eyes. 

And  she  almost  seemed  to  touch  them, 
And  to  join  the  welcome  shout; 

When  darkness  fell  around  her, 

For  the  little  match  was  out. 

Another,  yet  another,  she 

Has  tried,  they  will  not  light, 

Till  all  her  little  store  she  took, 

And  struck  with  all  her  might. 

And  the  whole  miserable  place 
Was  lighted  with  the  glare, 

And  lo,  there  hung  a little  child 
Before  her  in  the  air. 

There  were  blood-drops  on  his  forehead 
And  a spear-wound  in  his  side, 

And  cruel  nail-prints  in  his  feet, 

And  in  his  hands  spread  wide. 


153 


Mm  ^nr’s  (ifø. 


And  he  looked  upon  her  gently, 

And  she  felt  that  he  had  known 
Pain,  hunger,  cold,  and  sorrow, 

Ay,  equal  to  her  own. 

And  he  pointed  to  the  laden  board, 

And  to  the  Christmas  tree, 

Then  up  to  the  cold  sky,  and  said, 
“Will  Gretchen  come  with  me?” 

The  poor  child  felt  her  pulses  fail, 

She  felt  her  eyeballs  swim, 

And  a ringing  sound  was  in  her  ears, 
Like  her  dead  mother’s  hymn. 

And  she  folded  both  her  thin  white  hands 
And  turned  from  that  bright  board, 
And  from  the  golden  gifts,  and  said, 
“With  Thee,  with  Thee,  O Lord.’ 

The  chilly  winter  morning 
Breaks  up  in  the  dull  skies, 

On  the  city  wrapt  in  vapor, 

On  the  spot  when  Gretchen  lies. 


38ftn  ^rnr’s  (fur. 


The  night  was  wild  and  stormy, 
The  morn  is  cold  and  gray, 

And  good  church  bells  are  ringing, 
Christ’s  circumcision  day. 

And  holy  men  were  praying 
In  many  a holy  place; 

And  little  children’s  angels 
Sing  songs  before  his  face. 

In  hei  scant  and  tattered  garment, 
With  her  back  against  the  wall; 

She  sitteth  cold  and  rigid, 

She  answers  not  their  call ; 

They  have  lifted  her  up  fearfully, 
They  shuddered  as  they  said, 

“ It  was  a bitter,  bitter  night, 

The  child  is  frozen  dead.” 

The  angels  sang  their  greeting, 

For  one  more  redeemed  from  sin ; 

Men  said,  “ It  was  a bitter  night, 
Would  no  om  let  her  ini” 

1U 


Mm  Æ«. 


And  they  shuddered  as  they  spoke  of  hei 
And  sighed ; they  could  not  see, 

How  much  of  happiness  there  was, 
With  so  much  misery. 


J801.4 


A544ST 


71797 


